


Trinity

by Septembers_coda



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plotty, Porn, Romance, Season/Series 05, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septembers_coda/pseuds/Septembers_coda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Sam and Dean were parted, Sam and Cas became lovers, when Cas answered Sam’s mysterious, erotic dreams that he received like prayers. But a wedge is thrust between the lovers when Dean starts to have the dreams, too, and the three of them must put their romantic drama aside if they are to prevent the apocalypse. They despair of doing so, until Cas reveals a long-buried, blasphemous secret of angelic power, a slim thread of hope that could give the three of them the strength to save the world… if it doesn’t kill Sam.</p><p>See art for this fic by the awesome LJ user mask_of_red here: <a> <b> Art Master Post </b> </a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to LJ user dracox_serdriel for the beta. The chapter titles are song titles from: 1.) Nick Drake, 2.) Whither Peregrine, 3.) Chris Whitley and 4.) INXS. Add Jeff Buckley’s “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over”, and you’ve got a good playlist to accompany the fic.

Sam knew he had to go back to his life, and soon. He _would_ keep fighting. And… he’d call Dean, humbly and painfully ask if he could go back. He knew he deserved that pain.

But all he wanted was for this tiny space in time that he had carved with Cas—beautiful Cas, who had somehow, miraculously, become his lover—to last forever. Just—this. They had spent their passion at last, and Cas had said he would stay. There was so much more Sam wanted to do with Cas… so much he wanted to do to him. Right now, wrapped in satiety, the sweetness of Cas’s presence, his skin, the mysterious and lovely inhuman scent of him, nothing mattered but that he was here.

He had dreamt of Cas, intense, erotic dreams that had begun unexpectedly, soon after he had learned he was destined to be Lucifer’s vessel. At first, he had thought them some device sent by Lucifer to control him. But then Cas had come to answer his dreams, revealed that he shared Sam’s intense desire. Passion and pleasure blossomed into love between them. Though it had been only two days, Sam could no longer imagine a life where Cas was not his lover, and he didn’t want to.

They were kissing, so wrapped in transcendent bliss that he barely realized it. Sam became aware of his body as every inch of it began to hum, as Cas’s mouth moved so slowly but ever more insistently against his. Gradually he tasted Cas’s tongue, then more deeply, more deeply still as Cas strained into his mouth, as if he could consume him. 

He moaned against Cas’s lips, struggling to receive more of him. Cas turned him onto his back and sat over him, gazing down into his face. Sam felt a breath of movement, and the room was suddenly filled with sunlight—Cas had used his powers to open the curtains.

“Sam,” said Cas, urgently, but then said nothing more. He was staring at Sam with indescribable hunger—Sam didn’t know what he wanted, but knew he wanted to give it to him. 

His gaze travelled over Sam’s body, followed in soft trails by his hands, and as Sam watched, Cas grew hard again. He touched Sam’s body with slow reverence, trailing fingers and palms over Sam’s chest, belly, hips and thighs, pausing to softly and wonderingly stroke between them, parting Sam’s thighs gently, fingers curling lightly in his pubic hair, stroking, lifting and parting his balls like the petals of a flower, stroking up the shaft lightly, smiling delightedly as Sam stiffened under his touch, as if there were nothing carnal or obscene about any of it. He continued down Sam’s legs, tucking curious fingers behind his knees and exploring the softness there, moving down to caress and feel the muscles of his calves, moving and squeezing them to find their strength, then pausing to caress the skin and finger the soft, light hair there. He tucked Sam’s long legs together, folding them in his lap, and continued to Sam’s feet, caressing them, moving the pads of his fingers over the tendons, pulling gently and curiously at his toes, taking each foot in his hands, squeezing and releasing, then stroking the bottom softly, fitting his palm to it. 

Sam found this unexpectedly and intensely erotic. The morning sun flooding in the window caressed him as Cas did, and he simply lay beneath it, gazing at Cas gazing at him, a richness unlike any he had ever known flooding his senses. This. _This._

“You are beautiful, Sam. Strong and lovely and perfect. I have seen…” He paused, setting Sam’s legs out long again, moving up towards the head of the bed, and put both hands on Sam’s face, caressing softly, his thumbs tracing Sam’s eyebrows, eyelids, and cheekbones. “I have seen the celestial light of the universe, all the wonders of the world, sunset over the Garden and the birth of stars… I am not sure I have ever seen anything as beautiful as you.”

Sam could not speak. He wanted to tell Cas that _he_ was that beautiful, and to say that he loved him. But he could only gaze at him, struggling to breathe, bathed in beauty and love beyond his comprehension.

Cas simply smiled, as if Sam had said the words. “Beautiful,” he murmured again, and kissed him, mouth moving so slowly and sweetly that Sam thought he would die of it, and be glad to die.

Cas seemed determined to thoroughly explore every part of Sam. As he kissed him, he fingers probed the hinge of his jaw, slid underneath, moved over his ears and paused, as if amazed to find a treasure. He traced Sam’s ear with a feather-light fingertip, from cartilage to lobe, back over again, spiraling in to the center. He tucked his fingers gently behind, up and over, then moved his lips to follow the path of his fingers. Sam gasped soundlessly, mouth open, as Cas moved his tongue to reach inside Sam’s ear, where his fingers could not easily reach, exploring and tasting. Sam did not know if Cas’s intention was erotic, or if _Cas_ even knew if it was. 

It didn’t matter; all that mattered was that Cas keep touching him, and he did. His fingers explored the roots of Sam’s hair, the nape of his neck, the hollow of his collarbones, slid sweetly over his shoulders as Cas’s lips moved under his jaw to his chin, down to his throat. His tongue explored Sam’s Adam’s apple, then moved to the divot of his breastbone. His fingers kneaded the muscles of Sam’s chest, an oddly strong caress in the midst of all the feather-light touches, all the more erotic by contrast. 

He paused with his thumb over Sam’s nipple and tilted his head curiously, gazing at it for a long moment as he stroked it lightly, then brought his thumb and forefinger together over it, squeezing gently. When it stiffened under his fingers, he made a soft, curious noise, all his attention focused intently on it, like a cat. He pressed his cheek to Sam’s chest and licked the nipple softly, making a pleased sound at Sam’s sharp intake of breath. He repeated this whole treatment with the other nipple, and when Sam arched helplessly, he laughed softly and fastened his mouth to it, sucking slowly and deeply, moving his tongue over it and licking hungrily. Sam was soon shuddering and gasping. But Cas seemed just as interested in the inside of Sam’s elbow, which caught his eye and made him abandon his nipple. 

Sam moaned, but he could not protest. His body was so electrified that everywhere Cas touched him felt almost the same; Cas’s lips pressed to his elbow-crease was as erotic as the most intimate touch imaginable, and as Cas’s fingers curled around the point of his elbow and his mouth opened, wet against Sam’s arm, he thought surely _this_ was the happiest, the most whole any human being had ever felt.

He was barely conscious of the heaviness of his body in Cas’s hands when Cas rolled him onto his belly and continued this treatment on the other side of him. His hands, lips, tongue, and even his teeth—very gently—were intrepid over Sam’s back, shoulder blades, the backs of his arms, the small of his back. He curved his hands over Sam’s hips, caressed his buttocks, squeezed them, and rubbed his face down the backs of Sam’s thighs, scraping them with his stubble, tonguing the hollow behind his knee, biting gently at his calves.

Sam shivered in an erotic bliss so intense he wasn’t even sure if he was coming or not: it was like one long, slow, soft orgasm, and yet it was far from climax. He could not move or make a sound as Cas continued, moving his hands back up Sam’s thighs and parting them further. He parted Sam’s buttocks also, with the same gentle, inquisitive touch he had used elsewhere, and Sam felt him pause as he had over Sam’s nipple, and make another pleased sound. The few seconds when Cas wasn’t stroking him began to alarm him. But there was the sound of a bottle opening, a liquid noise, then Cas was back, and his touch was wet now, and then Sam’s pleasure spiked like a small implosion as Cas’s fingers slid into him, spreading him open. He penetrated Sam unbearably slowly, as he had done everything else, exquisitely feeling him, pushing in, sliding out, slipping forward over Sam’s perineum, wetly moving his fingers over his balls, then returning to slowly thrust in deep. Sam could feel Cas’s curious, intense attention to every reaction he made. His slick fingers moved in, out, around, back to Sam’s inner thighs, forward to grip the base of his shaft from underneath… Sam was blind, deaf, awash in a sea of erotic flame, equally frantic and content. 

Painfully slowly, Cas pulled Sam’s hips back, still sliding in and out of him with one hand. Then with both hands he pressed Sam open, widely parting buttocks and thighs, and continued to caress him unbearably. Sam heard his own voice crying out for mercy, desperately, but his cries were so soft he didn’t know if Cas even heard him, but whether he did or not, he responded, so lovingly and kindly, sweet, beautiful Cas… at last he knelt behind Sam, and, still caressing his opening, began to push inside him. He filled Sam, achingly slowly, pushing all the way in, lying pressed against Sam’s back for a long moment before pulling back, almost all the way out, then agonizingly, back in… 

Sam felt himself stretched, pulled inside out, from his soul outwards, his very being expanding and swelling to hold this unimaginable pleasure. Cas moved in and out of him, his speed never increasing. He seemed to pause to take in every catch of Sam’s breath, to listen for every nearly-soundless moan, even, Sam imagined, looking inside him to watch the bursts of light flowering in Sam’s brain. Though he did not speed up, he gradually pushed harder, so that when he penetrated Sam fully, he strained against him for several long moments each time, muscles trembling as he crushed Sam into the mattress. He strained with his whole body to come inside Sam, face pressed hard into the side of his neck, chest pressed hard to back, arms locked around his waist, legs squeezing Sam’s legs tremblingly, feet tucked against Sam’s ankles.

In and out, slow and hard, exactly like this, he fucked Sam until Sam was sure he had already died, this was heaven; it couldn’t be anything else. After a long time—hours perhaps—Cas pulled Sam’s hips off the bed and reached around him to stroke him with hot, insistent fingers, tugging at his balls and moving up his shaft, still pushing hard inside him. In Sam’s mind, he was screaming in ecstasy, but he made barely a sound as Cas dragged him into a holy rapture, that was surely, surely impossible on Earth. He came at last, sobbing and fountaining in ecstasy for several long minutes, sweet, elated, desperate bliss tracking every nerve, every pore of his skin, from the roots of his hair to the souls of his feet, deep inside his muscles and viscera and skeleton, spiraling out of his body to fill the whole world, then snapping back forcefully inside his body, shattering him. He was gone.

When he returned, wrapped around Cas, trembling and sweating in his arms, he began to laugh, helplessly, until tears of joy streamed down his face. Cas simply held him, smiling and touching the tears wonderingly, until the storm had mostly passed, then asked softly, “What’s funny?”

“Nothing. Well, everything. I love you,” he said, having held this inside himself for long enough. “It’s just… I can’t believe I ever thought _I_ had anything to teach _you._ ”

Cas gazed at him tenderly, touching his face again. “You taught me to do what I feel, and to touch you however I want,” he said. “That’s all I did. And you showed me how to perform certain acts… though I have not done everything you dreamt of yet.”

Sam chuckled. “There’s still time,” he said, grinning. “Are you saying you need more tutoring?”

“Perhaps more practical application at this stage.”

“I’m all for the hands-on approach.” Sam cradled Cas close and let himself drift. In the life he’d led, there had been few enough perfect moments that he had learned to savor the ones he found. He refused to allow his mind to go anywhere, to leave this moment with Cas, who was right there with him, so warm and connected, so very present.

After a while, Cas turned Sam’s face toward his with a hand on his cheek. “You need to sleep,” he murmured, with a slight questioning lilt.

Sam was extremely tired. He’d wanted to stay awake, stay in this moment with Cas, but, on top of his bones feeling melted in the aftermath of so much ecstasy, he had not slept well or much for several nights, and he felt himself sliding toward oblivion. “Yeah, I guess.” He clutched Cas tightly.

“Will you work in the bar again tonight?”

Sam sighed. He didn’t want to face that piece of reality yet. He’d have to disappear soon, go back to Dean. But… maybe not yet. Maybe if he gave Dean some time, Dean would be happy to see him again. And… he felt a clench of embarrassed dread. He wasn’t ready to tell Dean about his relationship with Cas yet.

“Um… yeah. I think I’ll give it a couple more days.” He touched Cas’s face and waited for him to object, but he said nothing. “Can you still come and see me when I get off work?”

“It will be difficult to wait so long,” Cas mused, caressing Sam’s back slowly. “But yes.”

Sam peered out at the world through the window. The morning was growing older. “Do you… have other stuff you need to do today?” he asked wistfully.

“Yes. I must continue my search for my father. I… have lingered longer than I should.” He kissed Sam with unexpected passion then; Sam gave a startled moan and pulled him close, melting into him. “But it is still difficult to leave,” Cas continued eventually, in a soft, rough voice. “Is it always like this for lovers?”

Sam laughed softly, tousling Cas’s hair. “Well, they do write a lot of songs about it.”

“Yes.” Cas kissed Sam again, lingeringly. “Songs and poems. This is what would be called an aubade. I believe it could still be called one, though it is long past dawn. I do not wish to be parted from you, Sam.”

“You either, Cas. But we’ll be together again soon. Right?” He clutched Cas a little tighter. He still felt uneasy about that: Cas was an angel, and his “soon” might be different from his own. Also, he could leave Sam in a fraction of a second, and Sam would never be able to find him.

“Yes. I will be here tomorrow by four AM. I cannot wait to see you again, Sam.”

Sam felt thrilled down to his toes at these words. He continually marveled at his own giddy infatuation. He kissed Cas, intending it as a brief farewell, but Cas’s passionate response inflamed his own, and he kissed him deeply for a long, heated moment.

Cas was breathless when they finally broke apart. “You are not making it easier for me to leave,” he said, his tone too tender to be scolding.

“Wish I could make it impossible,” Sam murmured, tracing Cas’s lips with his fingertips.

“You very nearly are.”

“Hmmm, well…” Sam kissed him again, catching Cas’s bottom lip teasingly between his teeth. Cas moaned softly in response. “Something to keep aspiring to.”

Cas caught Sam against him and kissed him with breathtaking intensity. Sam kissed him back hard, arching against him and groaning deep in his throat. By the time their lips parted, Cas was gasping for breath. “Sam,” he whispered urgently.

“I want you, Cas.” The words slipped out before Sam could stop them, and he was kissing Cas again before he could stop that, either. How could his desire still be unsatisfied? How could it rise again minutes after the most intense lovemaking of his life, for the third time that day? But as Cas’s mouth opened against his, slightly surprised, a frisson of lust jolted through him, culminating in his groin, rendering him painfully hard. He gasped, thrust his tongue against Cas’s, thrust his hips against his, grinding desperately closer.

“Sam,” Cas groaned again, seeming unable to find further words. Sam answered with his body, rolling Cas onto his back, seizing his head in his hands and dragging it up to his as he kissed him again, searingly. 

“I want you,” Sam repeated helplessly. “God, Cas, so bad… please…” He thrust himself between Cas’s legs, grasping the back of his thigh and pulling Cas’s leg around him, straining to immerse himself in him.

“Yes… Sam… I’m yours…”

Cas rolled onto his belly, and Sam was frantically crawling, sliding up Cas’s body, desperately fumbling to bring them together. He thrust into him, shuddering violently, and Cas shoved back hard against him, neither surrender nor struggle but a perfect rhythm of pleasure. They moved together in it, building and building. Sam moaned desperately, holding back his climax, as he reached around to fondle Cas urgently, needing to touch him as much as to move in him. Cas’s frenzied cries pulsed through Sam, shocking him with an ecstasy so fierce he couldn’t contain it; it spilled out of him into Cas and washed back over both of them in a sweet, frantic tide. Sam kept moving, bringing Cas with him into rapture, melting into him at last. He wrapped Cas up entirely with his long limbs and kissed his neck as he fell still, utterly spent and exhausted.

There was silence for a while as their breath gradually quieted. Cas turned his head to kiss Sam’s shoulder and chuckled softly.

“What?” Sam murmured.

“You succeeded in making it impossible to leave. I hope you feel accomplished.”

“Oh, I do.” Sam was smiling smugly, but even wrapped in sweetness as he was, wanting it to last forever, he knew he could not fight sleep much longer.

Cas stroked his face tenderly. “What a mystery it is, this sleep,” he murmured as Sam was slipping away. “I wish I could follow you there. But as I cannot, I will go now. I will return this evening. And next time, I will be armed against such delay tactics.” 

But his voice was lovingly teasing, and Sam knew he could succeed in many, many more such profitable delays.

~* * *~

A day or two later—he could hardly be sure; the time was a blur of sleep, the occasional meal, and magnificent, prolific, constant sex with Cas—Sam sat at the table of his little studio apartment, preparing to leave it for the last time. He had quit his job at the bar, both because he could not bear unnecessary time away from Cas and in preparation for returning to Dean, but he had not been able to bring himself to call Dean just yet. Not only because he clung desperately to the bliss he had found with Cas, and literally kept him in bed with him as much as humanly possible. (Cas’s capacity for lovemaking appeared not to have human limitations, and Sam’s appetite for him had not abated, so Sam had had as much sex as his body could take.) He also had no idea what he was going to say to his brother, assuming Dean would even take him back. Cas believed he would. Even more than humbling himself to Dean, Sam dreaded explaining that Cas was now his lover.

The gay thing would throw Dean, surely, but that wasn’t what worried Sam. Not as much as his certainty that Dean would be—weirdly—jealous. He would be jealous of Sam’s attention to Cas, Cas’s attention to Sam, and the idea that Cas had chosen Sam instead of him. The latter made no sense—Sam could not, in his wildest imaginings, picture Dean taking a man (or at least, someone in a man’s body) for a lover, or admitting any sort of tender feelings for him. Or _having_ such feelings. 

Sam knew that Dean was possessive and covetous by nature. He had worked not to be a dick about it, but when they were younger, he had always wanted whatever Sam had, including girls and even friends. He countered this by being oddly self-sacrificing in other ways, generously making sure Sam had whatever he needed, or wanted, or whatever the two of them had to share, before taking anything for himself. But the feelings were still there.

Sam took a deep breath and picked up his phone, gazing blankly at the screen. He decided he would just ask Dean if they could rejoin each other, and leave the Cas thing aside for now. One monumental problem at a time. He’d tell Dean about Cas in person; that seemed only right. 

Before he could make the call, his phone lit up in his hand. Sam blinked. It was Dean, who had not called him or welcomed his calls since they parted.

“Hey, Dean. I was about to call you.”

“Sam… it’s good to hear your voice.”

Sam blinked, floored. Dean sounded… _emotional._

“You, too, man,” he replied.

“Listen… where are you? Can you meet me? We really need to talk.”

“Yeah,” Sam breathed, relief washing through him in a great tide. “We really do.”

~* * *~

Sam sighed, glancing over at Dean, who was surreptitiously mouthing the lyrics to the Air Supply song on the radio as he drove. Sam had intended to tell Dean about Cas immediately, but the peace between them was so fragile, and so precious to Sam, that he couldn’t bear to shatter it. In the face of the impending apocalypse, it meant more to him than he could ever express that Dean had put his trust back in him, despite all the mistakes he’d made. He still wasn’t sure, himself, that he deserved that trust.

If he waited much longer, though, Dean might be angry that he hadn’t told him sooner, and it would damage his trust further. Cas would hopefully not blurt it out when he showed up, but Sam didn’t think Cas understood any need for secrecy. And _was_ there such need? Sam didn’t want it that way. He recalled Cas saying he would like to witness Dean’s reaction. Though they’d been joking around at the time, probably Cas meant it. So he would try to arrange it that way. 

“Wanna stop for lunch?” Dean asked, glancing at the advertised restaurants on the FOOD signs at the highway exit.

“Sure,” said Sam, and a flutter of dread went through him. He could feel that his window of opportunity was approaching, and he was right. When they parked at a roadside diner, Cas was there, standing outside the restaurant as if they’d planned to meet him there.

“Hey,” said Dean, as he stepped out of the car. “How’d you find us?”

“I could feel Sam’s approach.”

Dean frowned and glanced between the two of them, his eyes narrowing further at what he saw. Sam couldn’t guess what that was, but he couldn’t keep his longing gaze off Cas’s face. Even after such a short time apart, a wild joy rose in him at seeing Cas again and hearing his voice. It was all he could do not to seize him and kiss him. Though on the surface Cas’s expression was flatly inscrutable as usual, when Sam met his eyes, he saw his own joy and longing reflected in those crystalline blue depths.

“Sam’s? What are you talking about? How could you feel it?”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted quickly, “I have something really important to tell you. I wanted to wait until Cas was with us.”

“OK,” Dean said slowly, looking between them again. 

“I saw Cas while we were apart,” Sam began in a rush. “Um, a lot, actually—“

“I was with Sam whenever I was not with you,” Cas said, in his usual flat tone.

“What? Why? I thought you were staying out of the whole apocalypse thing! Out of hunting! You lied?” 

“No, Dean!” Sam said quickly. “I was staying out of it. That’s not what it was. He didn’t even tell me what you two were doing. What you told me is all I know about that.”

Dean looked just as suspicious and even more confused. Sam struggled to form the words he needed to say next, but Cas gave him a brief reprieve.

“Sam would not allow me to talk to him about you, or any matters concerning my brothers and their plans for the two of you,” he said helpfully. He was gazing steadily at Sam, and Dean was starting to notice.

“What were you doing, then? Knitting doilies? You’d better tell me what the hell’s going on, Sam,” Dean said threateningly.

“Cas and I are lovers,” Sam blurted. Or at least that’s what he hoped he’d said. The words tumbled so rapidly out of him that he couldn’t be sure. “Um. Lovers,” he repeated nervously, searching Dean’s face, which had gone completely blank. “I love him. We’re a couple. Sleeping together,” he added.

“I do not sleep,” Cas intoned peacefully. “And I usually leave while Sam does.”

Dean’s face remained utterly without expression. There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Then he cracked a grin. “Jesus, Sam. You almost got me.” He laughed and clapped Sam on the back. “Good one. But if we’re gonna prank again, you know you’ll lose. Sleep with one eye open, bro!” He shook his head, chuckling to himself further. “C’mon, I’m starving,” he called over his shoulder, striding toward the diner and going through the doors.

Sam stood shell-shocked a moment, and exchanged an uninformative look with Cas. He hurried to catch up. “Dean! Hey—it’s not a joke. Listen. I know I’ve never been gay—”

He stopped. They’d entered the restaurant, and there were several patrons waiting to be seated, all staring at Sam with varying levels of shocked hostility. Not surprising, since they were in rural Oklahoma.

For the first time, Sam gave a moment’s thought to how his life might be different, societally, with a man as his lover. He froze, looking around at all the hick, small-town types. Then he laughed, a little hysterically. 

Dean squinted at him suspiciously again, and jerked his head at the staring patrons, silently urging Sam to consider the consequences of taking his “joke” further. Sam only laughed harder. He tried to stop himself, knowing that Dean would think he was enjoying the triumph of his “joke,” but the irony was just too much. He had watched his brother go to Hell, tried to sell his soul to bring him back, fought demons and monsters and died more than once himself—was he now going to be afraid of a few _homophobes_ in a roadside diner? What were they gonna do? Glare him to death? Of course, they might try something worse, but ordinary humans were no threat to a Winchester, and certainly not to Cas.

Cas was regarding him with tender curiosity. Sam knew he probably understood almost nothing of what was happening. He decided to cut to the chase. “Listen, Dean. I get why you don’t believe me; I could hardly believe it myself. But here’s the truth. God’s honest. I love Cas. He’s not just my lover, he’s the love of my life. I will be with him for as long as he’ll have me. I’ll never want anyone else.”

Dean just stared blankly at him. Sam sighed. “OK. I’ve waited long enough.”

He took the one step necessary to bring him close to Cas, who leaned in immediately, his expression softening in anticipation. Sam touched his face. “I missed you,” he said softly, drew Cas’s face up to his own, and kissed him passionately.

It had only been two days since he and Cas had last been together, but Sam felt his need for him rise desperately as he kissed him. He tried to keep it tame, something that wouldn’t be too shocking in public, but his constraint eroded as Cas gripped him tightly and pressed eagerly against him. Mindful of Dean’s reaction, Sam tried not to moan aloud, but with only partial success. He kissed Cas frenziedly, trying desperately to get enough of him, just enough to be able to draw breath without his mouth on his, just for a moment… he might have gone on kissing him indefinitely, if the shocked, angry rumble of the restaurant patrons around him hadn’t grown too loud to ignore.

As he drew away reluctantly, a middle-aged woman was loudly declaring that she was leaving, that she wouldn’t patronize a place that catered to such immoral folk. She added, over her shoulder as she dragged her glaring husband out the door, that they ought to be ashamed of themselves. Sam couldn’t imagine feeling further from ashamed.

As the haze cleared, he released Cas and looked at Dean. Dean’s gaze was empty. He had gone expressionless before, when Sam had told him he and Cas were lovers, but his face then had been a riot of emotion compared to now. It was utterly blank, his eyes like two hunks of green glass.

“Dean?” Sam said softly, but Dean, his expression unchanging, held up a hand to prevent Sam from speaking. He stood for a moment, hand held out, then turned, walked at a normal pace out of the restaurant, got in the Impala, and drove away. 

Cas looked up at Sam questioningly. Sam sighed, then smiled. “Well,” he said, turning to look for the hostess, “we might as well have lunch.”

“Where did he go?” asked Cas.

“To think. He’ll be back. If he doesn’t show up before we’re done eating, you can zap us into town, and he’ll have picked a hotel there. He’ll probably be ready to talk by then.”

He took Cas’s hand defiantly as he looked around. Everyone was avoiding his eye, and many of the seated diners were murmuring to each other and glancing at him from behind their hands. Everyone looked disgruntled or afraid, except for one teenaged girl sitting with her parents. She had a look about her that said she would be Goth if she hadn’t been raised in rural Oklahoma, and had gotten as close as she could. As her parents whispered angrily to each other, she caught Sam’s eye and smiled. She looked thrilled, like she’d witnessed something she never expected to see and was glad of it. Sam smiled back at her.

“Sir,” said the hostess, appearing at his elbow. She sounded nervous. “I’m not sure you’ll… be comfortable here. Maybe if you head on into town…”

“We’ll take a booth, please,” Sam said firmly. “And don’t worry. No more PDAs.”

She looked uncertain, but looked around and saw that most people weren’t glaring directly anymore. “Look,” she said. “I got no problem with you and your boyfriend, but folks here aren’t used to—” 

“I know what they’re not used to,” Sam said gently. “There’ll be no trouble, I promise. I know how to handle myself.”

She nodded tightly and showed them to a booth in the corner. A few people stared, but soon enough, everyone went back to their meals.

“I do not understand,” Cas said, after a few minutes.

“I don’t really either,” said Sam. “It’s just prejudice. Basically, it’s the same problem Dean has, but less personal and more judgmental. Dean is having a hard time believing his brother has a man for a lover, and these people are saying no one _should_ have a same-sex lover. For Dean, though, he doesn’t care so much about the gay thing, I think. He’s just upset that there’s something as major as my sexuality—or, at least… I don’t know, that I’d ever be with you, specifically—that he didn’t know about me. And… he’s always been kind of a jealous person. But he’ll adapt.”

Cas gazed at Sam penetratingly for a moment. “You never had a lover of your same gender before,” he said. It was not really a question.

“No. Umm, this is all pretty new for me.”

Cas gazed at him for a long moment. “Would you have loved me sooner if I had taken a female vessel?”

Sam was speechless with surprise. Cas’s body, his vessel, was as much a part of his identity, in Sam’s eyes, as the body, gender, appearance—whatever—of any human he’d ever known. Even in his life, where possession was common, creatures could alter their appearance at will, and things were rarely what they seemed, he still couldn’t imagine Cas looking, or physically being, anything other than what he was, in the vessel of Jimmy Novak. He frowned at the idea.

“I think Dean would’ve loved you sooner,” he quipped. “As soon and as often as possible, I’d say. That would have complicated things. As for me, Cas, I can’t say. I might almost have been more reluctant to get involved if you were a woman. In a woman’s vessel. Things never go well for women who get involved with me… but in any case, I—I love your vessel. I wouldn’t change anything. I just don’t care about the gay thing. I thought I would, but… I don’t know. I guess I’ve just seen too much. With all the weird things that have happened to me, by comparison, having a male lover just seems sort of nice and normal. And being with you seems like a miracle.”

Cas smiled, reaching across the table to take Sam’s hand. “I have seen literal miracles, but you are a miracle to me, too, Sam.” He glanced out the window, in the direction Dean had driven. “Dean will be all right with this news?”

“He’ll be just fine.”

~* * *~


	2. Foolish and Beautiful Things

Dean sighed, settling back against the seat of the Impala, letting the smell of the old upholstery soothe him. Yeah, the thing with Sam and Cas was weird. Weirdest was how lonely it made him, but that he didn’t feel like finding a girl to ease that loneliness. He was _jealous._ He might lie to Sam and everyone else about that (he carefully didn’t think Cas’s name), but he didn’t see any sense in lying to himself.

Getting separate rooms hadn’t helped as much as he’d hoped. To his dismay, he had heard their cries of ecstasy through the wall. He’d left and come out to the car when he found himself listening—trying to distinguish Cas’s voice from Sam’s, to hear the things Cas was saying in his passion.

So… whatever it was that turned Sam gay when it came to Cas, maybe it was working on Dean, too. Well, screw that. He had a stronger will than that. He’d known Cas first and had always been closer to him, in fact. Cas had pulled _him_ out of Hell, for Christ’s sake. He’d thought if the angel had a special connection with anyone, it should be him. He had grown closer to Cas when Sam went off on his own. Well, now it turned out Cas and Sam had grown closer during that time, too. A lot closer.

They were careful not to kiss or do anything gay in front of Dean, but they didn’t have to. The way they looked at each other was almost worse than if they just made out right in his face. Especially Cas— those intense blue eyes seeming to burn right through Sam’s clothes… fiery, covetous, blatantly sensual… he hadn’t known the angel _could_ look like that.

But… Dean shifted uncomfortably, leaning back from the steering wheel… was it only Sam Cas looked at that way? Before this whole thing happened, Dean had so often felt Cas’s eyes boring into him, and once or twice he’d wondered… he’d always pushed the thoughts away, of course. Dean was a ladies’ man; everyone knew it. He always would be. He liked women. A nice rack, curves, long hair, soft skin, pretty lips… Cas’s lips were pretty.

Dean shook himself. Some sort of angelic interference. Had to be. But honestly, he’d probably been feeling it longer than Sam had. Maybe longer than Cas, even. But Cas used to stand so close to him, and though Dean had scolded him for it, he hadn’t really minded. It felt nice to know that Cas was right there, within touching distance.

But now, Cas was his brother’s lover, and from what Dean could see, they were serious about it. Dean had stolen girls from Sam before, and they’d competed for them… Sam had even won a time or two. But Dean had never gone after someone Sam was in _love_ with. He’d never betray Sam that way. And dammit, he wasn’t gay! So why the hell was he thinking about Cas’s lips?

“You want to kiss me,” Cas said conversationally, from the seat next to him.

“GAAH!”

“I did not mean to startle you.” Cas was in the passenger seat, calm as always, but, Dean couldn’t help noticing, rather rumpled. His lips—the lips Dean had just been trying to stop thinking about—were red and slightly swollen.

“Jesus, Cas, we’ve talked about this.”

“But we have not talked about kissing.”

Dean had been planning to pretend he hadn’t heard that. It was like Cas had directly answered his thought. Perhaps he had… Dean flushed. Cas, showing up right when he’d started having _thoughts_ about him… Dean thought it would be a wake-up call, make him change the direction of his thoughts, but the opposite was true. Cas was so close, and all the barriers and fears seemed to disappear, until he was thinking how easy and natural it would be just to lean over and kiss him.

He shook himself. “What the hell, Cas. Why are you talking about this? Or did you just wanna discuss you and Sam? I told you, I’m OK with—”

“I want to discuss you and me. Kissing. Or rather, I simply want to kiss you.”

Dean felt dizzy. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the car.

“That’s… crazy,” he finally said, flatly. “You’re with Sam.”

“At this moment, I’m with you.”

Dean was shocked. “Cas! You… I thought you loved Sam.”

“I do. Very much. I fail to see how that would affect my desire to kiss you.”

“Well, then you’re missing something pretty important, pal.” Dean opened the car door abruptly and got out. He paced across the parking lot, stopping next to a garden bench by a scrubby patch of flowers on the hotel grounds. Cas followed him. 

“Look,” Dean continued, avoiding Cas’s eye as Cas stepped closer, “Even if you weren’t with Sam—” 

He broke off with a sharp breath. He had turned to look at Cas, and found his face inches from his own. “I told you,” Cas breathed, reaching up his hand to caress Dean’s face. “I’m with you,” and then, before Dean could shove him away, protest, do anything at all, Cas was kissing him.

Dean struggled to keep hold of reality, but it was a losing battle. Cas’s lips were at once sweet and demanding, and he pressed closer to Dean, trapping his head in his hands and moaning softly into his mouth. Dean’s need rose, frighteningly intense, overwhelming. He clutched Cas desperately as Cas lowered him to the bench, kissing him frantically. Cas’s hands slid under Dean’s shirt, caressing his bare stomach, then reached lower, tugging at the button of his jeans.

“Cas!” Dean cried. He struggled, seizing Cas’s hand. “Damn it! Sam…” He tried to form words to protest, to say he would not betray his brother, but all he could do was pant helplessly, then:

“Don’t mind me,” Sam’s cold voice interrupted them.

Dean shoved Cas then—hard—and Cas, startled, stumbled upright, onto his feet next to the bench. “Sam! Wait!” Dean shouted, but his brother was gone, striding away under the streetlights. Dean glanced uncertainly at Cas.

“He is upset,” said Cas, bewildered.

“Jesus, Cas, you’re surprised? You were trying to cheat on him with his brother!”

“Cheat?” Cas turned his laser-blue eyes to Dean’s. Dean tried to ignore how his breath caught at the intensity of the gaze, how his heart broke a little at Cas’s distressed expression. “Oh. This is about… fidelity.”

“Yes, you jackass! That’s what I was trying to tell you before he showed up!”

“That is why you wouldn’t let me kiss you? Or do more than kiss you, rather.”

“Yes, Cas… Jesus, you don’t understand anything! What matters right now is that one of has to go talk to him, and I think it should be you. And you’d better hurry or—” 

Dean blinked. Cas was gone.

~* * *~

Sam strode blindly away from the parking lot, with no idea where he would go. Just away. He was blinded by a storm of emotion. Anger, betrayal, terror, and shock were all trumped by the overwhelming, pure _pain._ His heart was shattered.

They had _both_ betrayed him. He had stood, numb and disbelieving, as Cas kissed his brother, tried to go further, and Dean had obviously _liked_ it. That was the most shocking part. He could never have imagined this particular betrayal, because he couldn’t see Dean with a _guy,_ ever. Of course, he would have said the same thing about himself, but still. _Dean,_ the most voracious and opportunistic womanizer he’d ever known? He wasn’t surprised that Cas was attracted to Dean, since gender didn’t seem to matter to the angel at all, and of course, they did have that special bond. Cas had saved Dean from Hell. There were bound to be some lingering feelings…

Sam rejected these thoughts with angry violence. He refused to rationalize it. He had to figure out what he was going to do now. He couldn’t stay with the two of them. Saving the world, preventing the apocalypse, was more important than his feelings, of course… but it was just impossible.

His loneliness rose in him like a terrible fever. He was in great danger from it, he realized. It was only Cas, and the closeness of their relationship, that had kept him from relapsing in his demon-blood addiction. And now… for the first time in days, Sam recalled Lucifer and the dreams he sent him. He said that Sam would say yes eventually. Maybe this was how he would get him. If he caught Sam now—heartbroken, separated from his brother and his former lover—Sam would be vulnerable. 

He wanted it all to be _over,_ this horror that had dogged him since he was six months old. And honestly, could he hope for a good conclusion? Nothing in his life had ever indicated that he could. Things had only ever grown darker as betrayal after betrayal mounted, some of them his own betrayals, his own fault. He could trust no one, not even himself—perhaps especially not himself. His love had not been enough to save Dean from Hell, and now it was not enough to keep Cas with him. He had nothing left to give, except his life, and did it even matter anymore if it was Lucifer he gave it to?

“Sam.”

Sam felt a blade of ice in his heart at the sound of that voice—the same sound that usually filled him with joy. He slowed his stride and turned slowly. “Cas,” he managed, in a low, defeated murmur.

Cas strode quickly to him and attempted to take him in his arms. Sam stood, unresisting but unresponsive.

“You are in such pain,” Cas said, distressed. “And it was I who caused it, I see, but I do not understand why. What is wrong, Sam?”

Sam shivered in Cas’s arms. His own arms seemed made of lead, and he could not lift them, either to embrace Cas or to shove him away. He simply drooped there, helpless. It was a long moment before he could speak.

“You… you really don’t know?” he asked numbly. He fought the tiny spark of hope that was desperately trying to ignite in his chest.

“No. I do not understand. Dean tells me it is because I kissed him. But I did not know this would hurt you. I am sorry, Sam.”

Again, Sam had difficulty responding. “How… how could you not know?” When Cas did not respond immediately, Sam stirred himself, forcing himself to focus on the logic of the conversation, fighting the numbing tide of despair inside him. He sighed, and asked, as patiently as he could, “Why did you kiss him?”

Cas considered a moment before he responded. “I… have wanted to do so for some time now. And I know he wanted me to, very much. He has begun to dream of it, and other things, much as you did before we became lovers.”

Sam closed his eyes tightly, hunching against the blades of intense pain Cas’s words stabbed into him. He tried to breathe deeply, but his chest ached so badly he could barely take in any air. 

Alarmed at his response, Cas hugged him tighter, but this made the pain unbearable. Sam shoved at Cas’s arms and shrugged free of his embrace.

“Don’t,” Sam begged, as Cas stepped forward as if to touch him again. “Please. Please don’t.”

Cas froze, and dropped the hand he had extended. “I am sorry, Sam,” he whispered again. “I still do not understand.”

“I know,” Sam said, clutching his chest, trying to breathe. He straightened himself, forced himself to meet Cas’s eyes, and asked, “Do you… do you love Dean?”

“Yes. I have always loved him, since I raised him from perdition.” Cas tilted his head, gazing inquiringly into Sam’s eyes, and his expression crumpled at what he saw there. He touched Sam’s cheek hesitantly, and drew his hand back with a wounded start when Sam winced away from his touch. He looked almost alarmed. “Why do these words cause you pain?” he asked, bewildered. “When I speak them of you, you feel joy. I thought this would bring you joy, also. You love your brother, and wish for his happiness. So do I.”

“Yes,” Sam murmured. “I do. So… so you should go to him, and make him happy.” The words were like razors, ripping Sam’s throat on the way out. He choked, turned blindly, and began walking away.

“Sam!” Cas appeared directly in front of him, and Sam stumbled to a stop, almost colliding with him. Cas seized his shoulders, and Sam winced again, but didn’t pull away. “I wish to make _you_ happy, more than anything, and I thought I was. Please explain why you are so unhappy now. I want to help. Please.”

“You can’t make us both happy, Cas,” Sam said dully. “Not like that. If… if Dean is the one you want, I won’t stand in your way. Or his. God knows I’ve ruined the guy’s life enough. So… have him. But I can’t stick around and watch, Cas. You can’t ask that of me. And Dean wouldn’t. He’ll understand why I can’t stay.”

“Yes. He understands much more than I do,” Cas said. “He understood that this would hurt you, and he stopped me. He refused me, Sam. Does that make anything better?”

Sam gazed at Cas for a moment. Did it? There was a very slight easing of the knot in his chest, but it tightened again when he remembered the look of intense pleasure and desire on Dean’s face in the moment before he pushed Cas away. “It didn’t look like he wanted to refuse you,” Sam muttered. “It looked like he wanted anything _but_ that.”

Cas gripped Sam’s shoulders, but said nothing for a long moment, so Sam continued. “You said he’s having the dreams. Like I did? Those dreams were what brought you to me, so now… so now they’re bringing you to Dean. You have to obey them. Don’t you?”

“No,” said Cas sharply. “No, Sam. I answered your dreams because I wanted to. More than I have ever wanted anything.”

“More than you want Dean now?”

When Cas did not answer immediately, Sam turned away again. “Let me go, Cas. You have to let me go. It’s… over between us. I love you, but I can’t compete with Dean. Tell him it’s OK. Tell him I said to do what he wants. I hope you guys are happy.”

Sam strode away into the night, and this time Cas did not follow.

~* * *~

When Dean woke the next day, Cas was sitting in the chair in his room, gazing at him. He winced and rolled over. “Did you find Sam?” he asked. He himself had called Sam several times and received no answer. He’d left one message, saying he was sorry, and that nothing had happened or was going to happen.

“Yes. But… he’s gone now.”

“What do you mean, gone? Didn’t you explain everything to him?”

“I attempted to do so, but everything I said made matters worse. He says he… cannot be with me anymore.”

Dean sat up. He looked at Cas closely for the first time. The angel looked… devastated. Dean cleared his throat. “Why not?”

“Because I love you, apparently.”

Dean sputtered. “Wh—what? No you don’t! Jesus, Cas, you said that to him? I should’ve come with you. I should talk some sense into him—”

Dean’s phone chimed at that moment, indicating he had a text message. He snatched it up from the bedside table. The text was from Sam.

_it’s ok you can be with cas i’ll be fine  
do what you want and be happy_

“Damn it, Sam!” Dean cursed. He immediately fired a text back.

_get your emo ass back here we need to talk about this  
cant believe im saying this i wouldnt steal your man_

“What does he say?” asked Cas, peering at the screen. Dean let him read it, waiting impatiently for a response. When it came, Cas made a sound of pain and turned away.

_he’s not mine it’s over do what you want  
i need some time away dean don’t call me_

“Well,” said Dean after a moment, “looks like you fucked up pretty bad, Cas. Why did you tell him you love me?”

“Because it’s true. I did not know it would hurt him.”

Dean shook his head, disbelieving. He had no idea what to say. Then, the full meaning of what Cas had said began to dawn on him. He looked up. The angel was gazing at him steadily.

“Cas,” he whispered. “Ummm… you’re really in love with me? Like, the same way you are with Sam?”

“Not quite the same. My feelings for each of you are rich and varied, based on who you are. You are both very different, so my love for you is different.”

“Do you love Sam more?”

Cas contemplated for a moment. “It is difficult to say, but I believe I do,” he said. “I have only been away from him a few hours, but I miss him terribly. It hurts very much that he rejected me, and the idea of never being with him again, in the way of lovers, is possibly the most excruciating thing I have ever felt. So, my understanding of human emotions is limited, but I believe I love him more.”

“Did you tell him that? Did you tell him you love him at least as much as me, and that you choose him? That’s the problem, right? You didn’t know you have to choose one of us? You thought you could have us both?”

“I suppose that is the problem, yes. I… no. I did not tell him. I realize now that I should have.”

“Well, find him and tell him now!”

“I cannot,” Cas said miserably. “He has hidden himself from me.”

“Angel-proofing?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t he have angel-proofing before, when you found him the first time?”

“Yes. But he was dreaming of me… praying to me, in a way. If he does so again, I can find him. But… perhaps he will not.”

“Well, we won’t know until he goes to sleep, I guess. Let me try texting him again.”

He texted quickly:

_cas loves you and only wants you  
come back_

“I love and want him very much, Dean. But it is not true that I _only_ want him.” Cas was leaning over Dean’s shoulder again, peering at the screen.

“You’re not helping! No wonder he left,” Dean snapped. “Listen, Cas. Humans have this need to be… first. He wants you to love him more than anything, and… not to love anyone else, not that way.”

Before Cas could answer, Dean’s phone beeped. He looked at the screen. Sam’s number was out of service.

“Damn it! That was fast,” Dean muttered. “We won’t be able to reach him this way anymore. I guess I’ll just have to find him the old-fashioned way.”

~* * *~

Dean was doggedly determined to find Sam. He put Bobby on the alert, but they had no luck for several days. Cas had never stayed with Dean for so long. It was making him nervous. He wasn’t sure what Cas did for the few hours a night that he slept, but he was always there when he woke. He spoke little, about Sam or anything else, and seemed miserable.

Dean was increasingly uncomfortable in his presence for several reasons. For one, he was acutely aware of how Sam would feel if he knew Cas was sticking so close to him. For another, Cas seemed to touch Dean at every opportunity, and Dean became increasingly aware that these touches were not innocent in their intent. He stood close to Dean whenever Dean was speaking, brushed his hand, rubbed shoulders with him when they walked through a door at the same time. His gaze was forever on him, and though Dean thought that had always been the case, there was a different quality to it now—a heat that Dean could feel on his skin.

Then there were the dreams. He had been uncomfortable enough having them when Cas was distracted with Sam, and when he wasn’t always around him. But now that the angel was there when he woke, and when he went to sleep, and the time in between was disturbingly filled with increasingly urgent, blazingly erotic images of Cas, and what they could do together, if it weren’t for Sam…

He shook himself free of the memory of these dreams as soon as he was fully awake. For once, Cas wasn’t in the room with him. He breathed a sigh of relief, got showered and dressed, and was getting ready to leave the hotel when Cas finally showed up.

“You’re back,” said Dean, as Cas moved toward him.

“Yes,” said Cas, and embraced Dean warmly, holding him close, as if they had not seen each other in months.

Dean went still with surprise. “Hey, uh… glad to see you, too, Cas, but—”

Cas interrupted him by trying to kiss him. 

“Hey!” Dean shouted, shoving him away. “What are you doing? I told you, I’m not going there with you!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I’m not! I can’t do that to Sam. So cut it out with all the sneaky little touches; don’t think I didn’t notice—”

“I have become accustomed to being touched. I find that I crave it intensely.”

“Well, we all do sometimes,” Dean mumbled. “I could take you to a massage parlor—”

“I wish to be touched by you. Sam gave his blessing. And you dream of it. Dean, I can give you—”

“I know what Sam said,” Dean said abruptly. He had to cut Cas off, because his words were dangerous. They were making his pulse race and his vision swim, the closer Cas stood to him… and he seemed to keep getting closer… “But I also know he didn’t mean it. If you had him, it’d be him you were touching, not me, and that’s how it should be. We just have to find him, sort everything out—”

He turned toward Cas and stopped with a gasp. Cas was right there, inches from him. The look in his devastatingly blue eyes was desperately pleading.

“Please, Dean,” said Cas, moving closer, circling Dean with his arms. “Please. I need it. I need you. I know that you want this.”

“I can’t hurt Sam,” Dean said, trying, and failing utterly, to lean away from Cas’s embrace. “And you… you love him. You should be with him. You deserve that.” His breath came faster. He remembered Cas’s kiss, the feel of his body pressed urgently to his. His desire rose, nearly uncontrollable, as Cas moved even closer, his lips almost touching his…

“He will not have me,” Cas said. “It hurts me. But it also hurts that you will not have me, when I know how much you want me.” 

He touched Dean’s face, and the erotic charge that surged through Dean at his touch nearly brought him to his knees. “No,” Dean whispered, and forced himself to move back. “Cas, he’s already hurting… you love him…”

“And I love you,” Cas whispered, and brought Dean’s lips to his own.

Dean knew, in that moment, that he was lost. He had never had a lot of self-restraint when it came to sex, and whatever remnant there had been shredded at the touch of Cas’s lips. His kiss was like a hurricane, thrashing and buffeting and drowning him in desire. 

He’d thought that Cas would be gentle, and he was not rough, exactly, but… impatient and demanding. Dean gasped as Cas pushed his shirt up over his head, tearing it off hastily, and ran his hands possessively over Dean. His touch was hot, and on his bare skin it burned through Dean electrically, rendering him helpless. He pressed himself against the angel and captured his head in his hands, kissing him deeply. Cas moaned into his mouth, and drew Dean down on the bed.

Dean was ready to surrender, but some part of him was… afraid. He had seen Cas’s power, and knew that, in his true form, Dean would not even be able to look at him, let alone touch him. And he had been touched by Cas in his true form before… he shuddered, and cried out helplessly as one of Cas’s frenzied hands ran over his shoulder, grazing the handprint he himself had branded there.

Dean couldn’t bear the touch. He seized Cas’s hands frantically and shoved them away, rolling free of his embrace. “No!” he half-shouted.

Cas froze, utterly still, and gazed at Dean. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, as Dean held his hands up between them, struggling to control his panic.

“Dean,” Cas said softly, caressingly. He moved closer, very slowly, and closed his hand over Dean’s raised fists, gently lowering them. He cupped Dean’s cheek and brought his face close to his. Dean flinched, but didn’t pull away, as Cas kissed him, long and slow and sweet, tenderly exploring Dean’s mouth, coaxing his tongue against his. 

Cas began to touch him again, very gently this time, more like the touch Dean had expected. He ran his hands over Dean’s back, lightly, and up the back of his neck into his hair. He brushed his temples with his thumbs. Dean began to relax when Cas’s hands didn’t move anywhere near the handprint.

“I would never hurt you,” Cas whispered. “I have loved you since I first touched you, down in the hideous depths of perdition.” He did move his hands toward the mark now, and Dean shuddered violently, but clung to Cas instead of pushing him away, as Cas very gently touched it, tracing its edges with his fingertips.

Dean panted desperately. He was not even sure what he was feeling—fear, or intense desire? Pain, or comfort? Need… that he was sure of, but of what? He only knew that he could neither bear Cas’s touch where he had branded him, nor could he bear for it to stop. Pulses of wild feeling entered Dean’s body through Cas’s hands. He felt himself grow unbearably hard. A cold sweat broke out over his body as Cas continued to touch him, now gently kneading the once-blistered flesh. He did not resist as Cas laid him down, stretching him out on the bed, and moved his mouth to Dean’s shoulder.

Dean cried out helplessly as Cas kissed the handprint. He shook, his body quaking so hard that the bed shuddered beneath them, as waves of sensation, both emotional and physical, shot through him like fire.

“I had never been to Hell, before they sent me for you,” Cas breathed against Dean’s skin. Dean was so focused on Cas’s lips, and the words that caressed his skin on their way out, that he barely noticed him undressing both of them. “I don’t think I could have imagined its malevolent ugliness, though I had been warned,” Cas continued. “But what I never expected, what no one warned me of, was that I might see something beautiful there.” He turned Dean onto his side to expose another part of the brand, and Dean nearly sobbed as he touched his tongue to it. “Something that would change me forever. Something worth falling for. You, Dean.”

Dean couldn’t speak. He was covered in sweat, utterly helpless and unable to move, and, he realized, close to orgasm, without Cas even having touched him intimately yet. But that seemed about to change. Cas rolled him onto his belly, one hand still caressing his side, and nudged his knees apart.

“Cas,” Dean whispered pleadingly, “No… I can’t…” He was still afraid of this. When he’d realized he wanted Cas, the idea of being penetrated was frighteningly foreign, and he’d thought, when he fantasized about it, that he would always be on top. Clearly, he was wrong, and out of his depth. He cried out, shocked, when Cas’s fingers pushed into him now, wet with lube that he began to spread in him.

“Shhh,” Cas said. “Dean. You will like this. I promise.” 

Dean tried to protest, but it came out as a moan as the sensation of being penetrated intensified. He tried to crawl forward, but Cas’s hands, with the implacable strength of Heaven, closed on his hips, holding him in place. “Be still, Dean,” he whispered as he knelt behind him. “Lie still and take what I wish to give you. You need it. Take it, Dean.” 

He pushed into Dean then, and Dean shuddered violently, crying out. Cas moved slowly, caressing Dean’s body everywhere, until Dean began to relax, his pleasure rising inexorably.

Dean had cause to learn again that Cas was not entirely gentle. There was no pain, but Cas increased the intensity until Dean was not sure he could take it. At last, Cas was fucking him hard, penetrating deep to a place inside Dean he had not known was there, filling it with himself. Dean was pressed hard into the mattress as Cas thrust into him, over and over. 

He lost himself. He heard himself crying out Cas’s name, as waves of orgasm pounded him mercilessly. By the time he felt the angel’s wetness spurt into him, heard his triumphant shout of ecstasy, he was not sure if this was real, if he was actually in the world, if his body was made to contain such a violent storm of rapture, fear, and love. The identity of Dean Winchester seemed sucked out of his body, into Cas, who possessed it utterly, and could only give it back to Dean with his touch and his love, if he chose to do so. Dean might be destroyed. Cas had saved him from utter destruction once, with his hands upon Dean’s body, and it remained to be seen if he would do so again.

Piece by piece, each caress and kiss put Dean back together. Cas’s hands and his mouth slowly gave Dean’s self back, tender and sweet as a flower slowly opening. As Dean, newborn, opened his eyes for the first time, it was to Cas’s face, the most beautiful thing imaginable, touching his own, his mouth covering his and giving him breath, his body caressing his and putting warmth into his flesh, life into the blood that ran through him.

Dean kissed Cas consumingly then, hungry to retrieve himself, hungrier still for Cas. He tasted every bit of the angel’s skin, and it was the taste of the electrical air before a thunderstorm, of the earth in his mouth as he dug himself out of his grave, the sweetness of the sun washing over him after forty years in Hell. Cas kissed him the same way, eager to give and to receive, and Dean gave in to an erotic frenzy such as he had never imagined. He was barely even aware of the acts he was performing, and had completely forgotten that he had never imagined doing these things with a man. Cas was not a man. He was an angel, and he possessed part of Dean’s soul forever, and the only way Dean would ever be complete was in _this._

He found himself kneeling behind Cas, who cried out in desire for him, and he took him, riding a wave of pleasure so intense he nearly lost himself again. Orgasm shocked him back into himself. He cried out desperately, then tried, harder than ever, to consume Cas completely, covering him with kisses, caressing, biting frantically, desperate for his flesh.

He took Cas in his mouth eagerly, tasting him, sucking deeply and exploring with his tongue, dragging Cas inexorably toward orgasm. Cas’s cries of pleasure shored him up, making him more solid, more complete. When Cas’s essence flowed into his mouth, he swallowed it, feeling as if the last piece of himself fell into place.

He wrapped himself around the angel, holding him tight, clinging to life. They both panted into silence, caressing each other tenderly, until stillness settled over them like a feather-soft blanket, and Dean drifted easily into sleep.

~* * *~

After his confrontation with Cas, Sam hotwired a car and drove for hours in a kind of heartbroken trance. In the morning, he stopped for gas, texted Dean, and cut off service on his phone, tossing it in the trash as he got back behind the wheel. He didn’t even know where he was or what direction he was driving. He guessed he’d stop if he hit the border or an ocean.

It was a warm spring, and the car he’d stolen had no AC, so he drove with the windows down. As the morning grew older, he became aware that the air was thin and sweet, cooling him kindly. He looked around himself numbly, and was surprised to be struck by the alpine beauty. He was in the mountains, and the green slopes were dotted with wildflowers, bathed in silvery sunlight. He watched for the next road sign and saw that he was on I-70 going west, and noted that most of the cars had Colorado license plates. He was in the Colorado Rockies. He and Dean did not have the best associations with this place.

It was beautiful, though. Sam was surprised he could feel that. Despite the numbness of heartbreak, there was a lovely peace here. Well, he would have to stop driving sometime and figure out what he was going to do next. This was as good a place as any. He found a remote roadside motel and checked in.

~* * *~

When Dean woke, he had only a few minutes of blissful remembrance before he was assaulted by waves of guilt. Cas wasn’t in bed with him, or he might have held off the guilt for longer. But when he thought of what he’d done… though he couldn’t help but cherish the memory, he knew it could never happen again. He felt a swelling of hatred for himself. How could he do that to Sam? Other than Stanford, Dean could think of nothing that Sam had ever wanted completely for _himself_ the way he obviously wanted to be with Cas—needed it, Dean thought, to be who he was. It was Dean’s job, as his older brother, to give it to him, to do all in his power to be sure that Sam got it and kept it. Instead, Dean had thoughtlessly taken it for himself.

A ghost of a voice whispered in the back of Dean’s mind, that maybe _Dean_ was the one who needed Cas to be whole—after all, he was the one Cas had brought back from Hell, the one with the mark of Cas’s hand permanently branded on his flesh. He felt sick at the traitorous thought. He had never had feelings of _this_ kind for Cas until Sam had them.

As he lay in bed, acclimating to the strange feeling of being completely alone for once, he imagined himself… really _with_ Cas. Spending every night with him, having as much sex with him as he wanted, but more than that, having a real relationship—like what he’d seen Sam and Cas developing before Sam left. Dean found that he was almost repulsed by the thought. Well, except for the sex. And it wasn’t that he didn’t love Cas, but now that he’d thought about it, being with him all the time like that? It felt like letting go of himself, the real Dean Winchester, rather than becoming more wholly him, as he had felt when he and Cas came together last night.

So he—weirdly, since he had never had a gay feeling in his life until about a week ago—had needed this thing—this _encounter,_ he’d call it—with Cas. Well, he could own up to that, with Sam. He’d claim that he’d gotten it out of his system (though he could tell, from the stirring under the sheet when he remembered the night before, that this was not strictly true), assure him it would never happen again, and he would by God see to it that it didn’t. Would Sam forgive him? More importantly, would he forgive Cas? Cas was the real wildcard in this. Dean could tell he still didn’t understand the concept of infidelity. Dean would just have to make damn sure that he got it before Sam came back.

Dean felt too hollow and lonely to focus on searching for Sam or on anything to do with the apocalypse. When Cas didn’t come back to the hotel room after he’d been awake for an hour or so, he wandered out with a cup of coffee, walking aimlessly. He found Cas sitting on a bench in a park a few blocks away, gazing out at a pond with a few ducks gliding across it. He sat down next to him.

“Hey,” he greeted the angel. It was strange, how much the _same_ everything felt. He’d expected everything would have changed.

“Hello, Dean,” said Cas. His voice was tinged with melancholy.

“You OK?”

“Yes. Well, no, not exactly. I am… strangely in pain.”

Dean looked at him and sighed. He never had much answer for pain, except the bottle. Well, and sex, but if that was what had caused Cas’s pain in the first place, more would certainly not help. “Why’s that?” he asked.

Cas looked at him, and seemed to finally really register his presence. His eyes brimmed with compassion, and he took Dean’s hand. “Dean,” he said. “I love you. I am so grateful to you for… allowing me to love you as I needed to, and as I believe you needed me to.”

“I did,” Dean said softly. His cheeks flamed, and he squirmed, but forced himself to leave his hand in Cas’s and look him in the eye. “I did need it. But Cas…”

“We cannot be together,” said Cas, stealing the words directly from Den’s lips. “I thought that I would feel better about Sam, expressing my love for you, consoling myself with your presence. But I feel much worse.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, “me too. I mean, Cas, I can’t regret what we did—“

“Nor can I, or would I, ever. Dean, I needed you, and I will always need your presence and your friendship. But when I think of it causing pain to Sam, it hurts me deeply. And I need Sam more than ever. I must have him back, Dean. I must. If that means I must never have you as a lover again, than I will not. I am sorry if that hurts you. I would not have it so.”

“No,” said Dean, “I realized the same thing. I mean, even if it weren’t for Sam, I’m just not a relationship guy, Cas. And… well, the gay thing is still weird. Not sure I can get used to that. But whatever—I can’t hurt Sam that way. I’m glad you realize you can’t, either. We just have to make him understand it.”

Cas looked up at Dean, tormented. “First we must find him,” he said.

~* * *~

After moping and drinking for a few hours, Sam tried to bring himself back to reality. He was in terrible pain, but he wasn’t Dean—he wasn’t going to just drink and bitterly try to ignore everything that was troubling him. He would simply have to find a way to live without Cas. In the meantime, he had to try to save the world.

He dove into research, looking for signs of the breaking seals. It wasn’t safe to call Bobby, but he carefully spoke to a couple of his more obscure hunter contacts. The signs weren’t difficult to find; in fact, they were distressingly prevalent. He couldn’t find a seal that was not already broken, or would be by the time he could get there. 

Finally, on his third day of research, he found what he was looking for: a constellation of brewing portents in Wyoming. He had been stockpiling supplies and weapons, which he packed into his stolen car. He switched its plates with some he’d found on an abandoned car the day before and hit the road.

~* * *~

“As far as I can tell, half o’ that town is demons now. You can’t go in without backup, Dean.” Bobby spoke irascibly, but Dean could hear the intense worry in his voice. Bobby had done his best to find Sam for them, and Dean knew he was kicking himself for his failure.

“Cas is with me, Bobby. We’ll be careful.”

“I could make it there in—” 

“Bobby, we need you to keep researching, and keep an eye out for Sam. He might come to you. I’m actually thinking he might show in Wyoming, though. Don’t think he could miss these signs. Maybe we can kill two birds—save this seal, and get Sam back at the same time.”

“You ever gonna tell me why he left?”

Dean swallowed. He wasn’t looking forward to _that_ particular conversation. Of all the insane things he’d ever had to explain to Bobby, he’d never imagined this one. 

“Who knows with that kid?” he said vaguely. “Bobby, thanks for everything. We’ll keep you in the loop.” Dean disconnected the call.

~* * *~


	3. Narcotic Prayer

Sam parked his car behind some bushes in the abandoned industrial farming complex. He’d tracked the demons here, though he still didn’t know what the seal was that they were aiming to break. Possibly they had already succeeded, but he had to stop them regardless. They had killed and possessed half of this little town already.

He shouldered his shotgun and hefted his duffle of weapons. He’d even managed to find some grenades, which should be helpful. Thank God for all the conspiracy nuts in this part of the country—he and Dean should come here and stock up more often.

He felt an anxious thrill as he thought of Dean, quickly followed by a surge of heartbroken pain. Dean was likely to have seen the same signs he had. He would probably be here, and probably Cas would be with him. Well, at least he could back them up. He had to face them sooner or later; he couldn’t act like a teenaged girl forever. But he knew seeing them together would be like a knife in his heart.

He hurried toward the largest building when he saw flickering light through gaps in the boards covering the windows. As he got closer, he heard voices, and his heart froze painfully inside him when he recognized one of them. It was Cas.

“Destroying me will not stop the Winchesters,” he said.

No! No, no, no… where was Dean? Sam’s heart pounded frantically as he ran for the building. He peered through a gap in the boards and saw Cas facing a group of five demons. He was on his knees, slumping toward the floor, apparently badly injured. One of the demons was holding a large, clay pitcher that looked familiar to Sam. All was explained when he stepped closer to Cas—still dodging back carefully, like a coward, whenever Cas moved—and splashed liquid from the pitcher onto Cas. Cas groaned in pain, raising his arms weakly to block the liquid. Sam saw that his clothes were dark with it. It could only be holy oil.

“It might not stop them, but it’ll sure slow them down for a while,” said the demon. “And it will be one more seal down. Besides,” he said, gesturing to one of his companions, who moved forward with a vicious grin. “It’ll be _fun.”_

Sam rammed the butt of his gun through the window. When the startled demons looked up, he blasted one, who had just pulled a lighter from her pocket, with rock salt. She screamed and fell back. Sam burst through the door and blasted the first demon he saw. He gasped with momentary relief—they were all coming for him, and had abandoned Cas, who had shed his trenchcoat and was crawling away from the oil-soaked spot on the floor.

He had left the demon-killing knife with Dean, so he fought as hard as he could the usual way, blasting the demons with rock salt to slow them down, then going after them with a machete. Dismemberment slowed even demons down. He cried the words of an exorcism as he fought, and sent up one cloud of black smoke. It would not be enough to buy time for Cas to escape, he realized with a surge of panic, when he saw that Cas had collapsed after crawling a few feet away. Matters were compounded when about eight more demons burst through a door on the other end of the industrial barn—and Cas was between them and Sam.

“NO!” screamed Sam. A pair of demons had spotted Cas and moved toward him, and one of them was carrying a blowtorch. He blasted it with rock salt, but it was too far away, and the shot barely slowed it. Sam surged forward, leaping over Cas, and struck it with the butt of the gun. He knocked it several feet across the room, and the blowtorch went flying out of reach. He panicked for a moment, afraid it would set the barn on fire, but it had gone out.

He fought furiously, but he was surrounded. He heard Cas say his name, and shouted in rage when he turned and saw two demons dragging Cas toward the blowtorch.

More had come in as he fought. Sam felt a raging panic of despair. In moments, Cas would be destroyed by holy fire if he did not act quickly. The demons dragging him were too far away to reach. The one he was fighting screamed and slumped forward in his arms after he sliced it open with his machete. Its blood was all over him. Its smell hit him like an electric shock, in the exact moment when he realized there was only one way to save Cas.

~* * *~

Damn it, Dean thought. He’d been duped. The demons had laid a trap for him, but it was only a distraction. They had set up a nice fake ritual that looked like the seal they were trying to break, tied up a “virgin” on an altar (she turned out to be a demon, of course) and came after Dean en masse when he came into the building. Good thing he never let himself get soft—and that Sam had left the demon-killing knife with him.

He’d killed the demons and freed the “virgin;” she had almost gotten the jump on him, but he killed her, too. Then he’d heard the gunshots. 

Cas had an idea what seal they were going to break, and had gone to check a different building, hoping to stop it. It sounded like he’d been caught. As Dean ran, he fought a terrible sinking feeling, an intuition that he would be too late to stop whatever was happening. 

As Dean ran furiously toward the sound of gunfire in the huge barn, he stopped, heart leaping from his chest, as he saw a horribly familiar black cloud coalescing on the far side of the complex, brewing with lightning. Unearthly shrieking sounds filled the air as demons began materializing out of the cloud.

If he could just reach the barn before they got there, if he could reach Cas, he could zap them out of there and they’d be OK, broken seal or not. The problem was that demons were _inside_ the barn, too. But demons couldn’t hurt Cas… could they?

~* * *~

Sam staggered as the power left his body. He’d taken in so much, and expended almost all of it at once, and he was dizzy and shaking and filled to the brim with terrible shame… but none of that mattered with Cas lying in a bruised and far-too-motionless heap on the ground. He rushed to him and fell to his knees, seizing the angel’s shoulders.

“Cas!” he croaked, throat raw from screaming. “Oh God… Cas, please, say something…”

“Sam,” Cas whispered, clinging weakly to Sam’s arms. “I missed you… so much.”

Sam choked, and pulled Cas into his arms, embracing him fiercely. “Oh, Cas… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… what can I do? How do I fix you?”

“I will be all right. Please…” He was reaching for Sam’s face, trying to sit up. Sam helped him to do so.

“What, Cas? What do you need?” Sam asked anxiously, as Cas clung to him.

“Please kiss me,” Cas said, trying again to bring his head to Sam’s, and Sam nearly sobbed, pressing his cheek to Cas’s.

“Oh, Cas… I want to, so much, but I… you saw. I drank the demon’s blood. It’s… it’s in my mouth. I’m so sorry. I had to… they were going to _burn_ you, Cas, God, I swear, I wouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to touch me with it in me… just let me get you somewhere safe—” He gasped as Cas touched his lips and he felt a brief, intense tingle in his mouth and throat. Cas grasped Sam’s head in his hands, but was too weak to draw him close as Sam stared at him, frozen.

“Your mouth is free of it now,” Cas said, gazing deeply into Sam’s eyes, all the way into him and beyond. “Please, Sam…”

Sam crushed Cas to his chest and kissed him. He tried to give him all the tenderness, sweetness, and regret he felt for leaving him, to kiss him gently, but Cas clutched him desperately and kissed him with such passion that Sam surrendered to his own frantic need. The kiss grew wild and animalistic. He wanted to take Cas right then, make him wholly his own, and Cas’s moans of desire fanned the flames of his need until he felt like everything, the whole world could burn down around him and he wouldn’t care, as long as he had his angel.

~* * *~

Dean burst into the barn, gun in hand, and nearly dropped it when he saw Sam and Cas twined together on the floor, kissing furiously. He froze for a moment, a dozen contradictory feelings rushing through him at once. The first was relief at the sight of his brother alive and well, and reunited with his love. The second was white-hot jealousy, confused and fanned by intense arousal and desire. The sounds that Cas made, the way he threw his head back when Sam bent to kiss his neck, eyes shut tightly, beautiful mouth open and panting for breath…

Dean shook himself. Jesus, time and a place! “Hey!” he shouted, and felt both regret and bitter satisfaction as Sam and Cas jumped and broke apart. “You know I love a good make-out party, but unless you wanna kiss some demons, now’s not the time. We’re about to meet a whole busload of hell-spawn, ETA: right freakin’ now.”

Sam leapt to his feet. “Cas is hurt,” he said frantically. “He can’t fight. We’re gonna have to protect him.”

Dean noted that Sam didn’t look too good either; he had a cut on his cheek and blood on his hands. He looked around the room, trying to form a defensive strategy, and saw all the corpses, most of them bloodless and without a mark on them. His own blood ran cold.

“Sam,” Dean said, trying even as he spoke to hold the words back. “Did you…”

“Yeah,” said Sam harshly, “because they were about to burn Cas with holy oil. We’ll fight about it later, Dean. We’ve gotta get outta here.”

“Like I was sayin’,” Dean muttered irritably, and just then, the first demon burst through the door.

Dean and Sam stood with their backs to Cas, next to each other, and fought for all they were worth. Fortunately, these demons took no notice of Cas, possibly thinking him just another corpse on the floor. They didn’t seem to know about the holy oil.

Dean had never seen Sam fight like this. He didn’t use his demon-blood powers, and Dean had the demon-killing knife, but Sam still dispatched more demons than Dean would have thought possible. He continually shouted the words of an exorcism as he fought with a machete that Dean had always favored for killing vampires. He ripped into the horde with more savagery than Dean had ever imagined him capable of. He slashed the demons to pieces with such terrifying brutality that some abandoned their vessels the moment he turned to attack them. Black smoke streamed thickly through the room. Two demons, hanging back and watching, turned and ran.

In the middle of the fight, Cas seemed to recover somewhat and struggled to his feet. Two demons were circling Sam, looking for their chance to attack, as Sam fought viciously with a third. Cas staggered forward and grabbed the pair of demons by the head, one in each hand, and smote them. Sam looked up at the celestial glow of Cas’s power, and cried out when Cas stumbled and fell.

Dean had spared a bit of his attention for this battle as he struggled with a huge demon, built like a linebacker, who was determined to force the knife out of his hand. Another demon saw Cas fall, and shot past Dean to attack him.

“SAM!” Dean shouted, but Sam had seen it. He hurled the demon he had just killed across the room and screamed, an inhuman shriek of pure rage that froze Dean’s blood, and hurled his machete at Cas’s attacker. It stuck out of his back, and the demon laughed over its shoulder at Sam, raising a knife to threaten Cas, who was struggling to rise to his feet. Sam stopped, held his hand out, and _ripped_ the demonic essence out of the demon, who shrieked in surprise and dropped to the floor. Sam gave a savage twist of his hand, and the black smoke shattered into sparks.

Sam yanked the machete out of the demon’s back, and held it up, dripping blood, as he stared down hatefully at the demon’s corpse. He raised the blade as if to strike, and stood, breathing hard, his eyes nearly glowing. His clothes were ripped, he was covered with cuts and bruises, and had a long wound on his forearm, of which he had taken no notice. Blood dripped from his nose and hands. Dean, having finally killed the linebacker-demon that was the last of their attackers, heaved its corpse off of himself and struggled to his feet. He stared at Sam, unable to suppress a deep shudder. Sam looked like the serial killer in a horror movie. His eyes were not sane.

Dean could only stare for a moment. Minutes before, he had been so grateful to see Sam alive and well, but now, the terrible consequences of Sam’s demon blood addiction were laid out before him. Forcing Sam into detox, and seeing Sam throw aside his efforts to save him, even threatening Dean’s life, had been the hardest thing Dean had ever experienced. He didn’t know if he could do it again, and looking at Sam now, he was sure that Sam could stop him. He could hardly believe it, but as the two of them stood frozen, Sam staring into the distance, caught in the grip of inhuman rage, Dean realized that, more than he had ever feared the forces of Heaven or Hell, he feared his brother.

But then Sam turned, and with a pained cry, fell to his knees next to Cas. He took him in his arms. All rage seemed to crumple into pain and fear as he clung to the angel. “Oh, Cas,” he whispered. “You should have left them to us. Are you all right?”

Cas clung to Sam even more desperately than Sam clung to him, and Dean’s heart contracted. He shuffled close, but could think of nothing to say in the face of this tableau.

“I will be well,” Cas whispered. “But I need…” He paused, coughing.

Sam rubbed his back. “What do you need, Cas?”

“I must wash off the holy oil. But I need living water.”

Sam threw a glance of confusion at Dean over Cas’s shoulder. Dean shrugged in reply. “Living water… what is that?”

“A stream or a river. Natural, running water. Water from pipes will not work as well… I must have it soon, Sam, or I fear... I will be drawn back to Heaven.”

Sam stood immediately, gathered Cas in his arms, and lifted him, seemingly without effort. “I’ll find it for you,” he said.

“C’mon,” said Dean, and led the way to the car. “Some of them escaped, and they might be regrouping. We better hurry.”

Sam got into the back with Cas, cradling him. “I came over a bridge, coming in on the highway east of here,” he said. “It was over a river, I think.”

“I know something closer,” said Dean. “I’ll get us there. You just… hold on, Cas.”

There was tense silence in the car as Dean drove to the nearby highway exit where he’d seen a bait and tackle shop, figuring there had to be a fishing spot nearby. He found the trailhead marked for fishing easily and drove right up the dirt hiking trail, as far as he could. The water was still a good distance away; the rocks and trees were too close together for him to drive any closer.

He got out as Sam was lifting Cas out of the back seat. “I can help you carry him,” he offered.

“I got it, Dean. Thanks.” But Sam paused, and looked at his brother for a moment. Dean could hardly believe, in that moment, that he’d feared him. It was just Sam, his little brother… hurt, scared, and broken, peering at his big brother with desperate eyes. “Dean.” Sam cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I… you’ve gotta know I never meant for this to happen. Any of this. We’ve… gotta talk, once I get Cas better.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, swallowing his immense relief. “Yeah… I’m sorry, too, Sam. I… you know. I’ve got things to talk to you about, too.”

Sam moved forward with Cas in his arms. “You’ll wait here for us?”

“Yep. I’ll make sure nothing came after us. You go get that holy oil off of him.”

~* * *~

Sam carried Cas to the shore of the river. It was early evening, so there was no one fishing. He set Cas down on the ground. “This will help, first of all,” he said. “We’ve got to get these oil-soaked clothes off of you.” He began undressing Cas as quickly as possible. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, on his fear for Cas’s safety, but Cas was distracting him by submitting to his undressing with closed eyes, parted lips, and gasps whenever Sam’s hands brushed him with a suggestion of intimacy.

Sam swallowed, and tried to ignore his overwhelming, inappropriate desire. Cas appeared to want him, yes, but he did not know where things stood. Sam wasn’t even sure Cas really understood that he had drunk demon blood. He seemed to have been delirious this whole time. Perhaps, if he knew and was in his right mind, he wouldn’t want Sam.

“OK,” he said when Cas was naked. He helped him to his feet and led him to the edge of the riverbank. But Cas staggered along the way, barely remaining upright. “You probably need me to come in there with you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Cas, clinging to Sam. “Please.”

Sam stripped quickly and supported Cas as he carefully eased him down the bank into the water. Luckily the bank was not steep and the current seemed relatively friendly. It was shockingly cold, though. He held onto Cas, feeling his way with his feet, and waded until the water was just below Cas’s shoulders. Cas seemed to become more alert as they waded in, and to move with more assurance. Sam made sure Cas could stand on his own, then tried to stand back to let the water wash him, but the angel clung to him, then suddenly pulled him tightly against him and kissed him fiercely.

Sam couldn’t pull away, despite his fears. He returned Cas’s kiss hungrily, cupping his face and leaning over him. His heart pounded and he gasped for breath when their lips parted. “Cas…” he moaned. “I can’t… you won’t want me if— if you love Dean and want to be with him…”

“I will _always_ want you,” Cas interrupted fiercely. “It is you I need, Sam, whom I love more than I ever thought to love anyone.” He caressed Sam’s body under the water, eagerly pressing forward against him, and Sam felt the hard evidence of his desire. “Sam… please… do you still love me?”

Sam was shocked that he wouldn’t know, shocked to think he hadn’t told him. “Oh, Cas! Yes! Of course; I love you so much… always…”

Cas kissed him again, hard. “Then be with me,” he growled. “I love you. I need you with me, Sam. Forever.” He crushed Sam to him, straining to move against him, to bring him as close as possible. 

Sam felt the strength of Cas’s arms returning; the weakness had left his body. Sam felt its vitality in Cas’s every touch. He opened himself to Cas’s hot, demanding kisses, eagerly caressing him in return. If Cas would have him, if he could be with him, he would take it, even if Cas didn’t understand the wrongs Sam had done.

As Cas’s body slid against Sam’s in the cold water, and his mouth eagerly clashed with his, Sam felt the leash he had kept on his desire snap. He gave in with a frantic cry, dragging Cas to the muddy shore and falling on him, feverishly trying to kiss and touch every part of him at once. Cas responded in kind, saying Sam’s name over and over again. 

“Oh, God, Cas, yes, yes,” Sam panted. Their bodies tangled together in the mud, limbs wrapping each other. “Please… oh God, don’t stop, Cas, please don’t stop touching me, I need you so much…”

“I need _you,_ Sam,” Cas responded, kissing him so hard that he ended up biting his lips. “I… I cannot be without you… Sam, you must never leave me again, please!”

“I couldn’t… I won’t, I never will, I’m sorry… ah, ah, God, yes!” Cas had rolled him over, pinning him on his back in the mud, and thrust his head between his legs. He tugged on Sam’s balls with his lips, pulling them into his mouth, fondling Sam avidly as he did so. He then took Sam in his mouth, dragging him in deep, and Sam fought valiantly against orgasm for several long moments before surrendering with a savage, guttural cry. Cas sucked the ecstasy out of him and snapped it back in, leaving Sam writhing desperately, before flipping him over and mounting him, raw and animalistic, thrusting into him with a keening cry of pure lust which Sam echoed, pressing back against him, falling into the frenzied rhythm. Sam braced himself on his knees in the mud, feeling Cas invade and wash over and cleanse every part of him, waves of love and need and passion and fulfillment flooding every part of him; he wanted it never to end, he wanted to die and to live forever and to never have been born, so he could disappear into Cas and feel this, only this, forever.

After Cas’s sobbing, shouting orgasm, Sam turned him over and took him the same way Cas had taken him; it was the same act, the next step of the dance. Their bodies tangled together and Sam hardly knew what he did, or what was done to him, to slake their passion. It went on and on until Sam did not know which limbs, what skin was his own and what was Cas’s, and it did not matter, because they were one being.

At last they lay still, tangled together, heartbeats slowly returning to normal, breathing each other’s breath. They kissed softly for several long minutes. Sam breathed Cas’s unearthly scent, still present under the green smell of river water. 

“Cas,” he said softly, after a while. “I’m sorry I left. I know you didn’t understand why I was hurt about Dean.”

“I did not,” said Cas, stroking his hair. “I do now. But Sam…” He sounded deeply troubled suddenly.

“I know you had sex with him. It’s OK.”

“You know?”

“Yeah. I could tell by the way Dean was acting, and how he said we needed to talk. But I knew it would happen, and it’s OK. I understand why he loves you, and you love him. I… you know, it’s weird. It doesn’t even hurt like I thought it would.”

“I would never wish to hurt you, Sam. It will never happen again, I promise.”

“I know you wouldn’t. But… as for it not happening again… well, I’m not sure we should make that rule.” 

Cas merely looked at him curiously. He continued. “As long as… you’re _mine,_ you know. If we develop a relationship, stay together. That’s what I want. It isn’t what Dean wants.”

“That’s what he said,” Cas murmured, cuddling closer to him.

“Yeah. I mean… the fidelity thing. I thought it was important to me, but what you and I have… it’s never exactly gonna be a conventional relationship, you know? And do you know… before I had the dreams, before I fell in love with you, I always wondered if there was something between you and Dean, and if Dean could ever get past his ladies’-man self-image to do anything about it.”

“Well. He did. And I do love him, Sam. I do not wish that to hurt you, but it will never go away. He said, when you left, that it would be important for you to know I love you more. I do, Sam. I love you both. But after I was with Dean, we both felt it, that what I needed was _you._ Dean is wise about such things, in his own way.”

“Yeah. He is. There’s always more going on there than he wants anyone to know. So, as long as you’re with me… if, now and then, you or Dean need to be together in that way, for some reason, I don’t think it bothers me. It’s sort of like… Dean and I are two halves of the same whole. It makes sense that, if you really love me and all that I am, you would love Dean, too.”

“I do. I love all of you,” Cas whispered. “You are so much, Sam. Thank you. For… being all that, and for coming for me, and saving me.”

“I always will,” Sam answered, leaning to kiss him tenderly. “As long as I’m alive, I’ll always come for you.”

They were silent for a time, awash in relieved, joyful peace. Sam gradually came to realize that he was quite cold, though. He shivered and held Cas closer. He caressed his back slowly, and felt that he was covered with mud. He leaned to kiss Cas’s jaw just under his ear, and his lips encountered a patch of drying mud there, too. He laughed softly.

“We’re very muddy,” he said, glancing down at his own limbs, which were slick with a red-brown coating.

Cas sighed, kissing Sam’s shoulder. “Yes. The mud is good. The clean touch of the earth helped negate the holy oil.”

Sam half sat up, alarmed that he had nearly forgotten the whole reason he’d brought Cas here. “Was it enough? Are you all right? Maybe we shouldn’t have…”

“It was good, Sam. I needed you so much. It healed me as much as the water did.”

“And you’re OK?” Sam held his face, peering down at him. Cas still seemed… softer than usual, not quite himself.

“I will be well. I simply need rest now.”

“A hot shower wouldn’t kill ya either, I’m guessing,” said a voice behind them.

Sam looked up. Dean was walking toward them in the near-darkness with his arms full of fabric. “I was gonna wait until you were decent, but it seemed like that might never happen,” he said drily. “It’s getting frickin’ cold out here. I don’t know if angels get hypothermia, but Sam might, if you don’t put on some dry clothes.”

Sam sat up. The sight of his brother, so solid and pragmatic, so much _himself_ , was oddly reassuring. He realized that it was not only Cas he had missed during his absence. He felt a surge of intense gratitude. “Thanks, Dean,” he said, as Dean handed him a pile of sweats.

“No problem. You’re a freakin’ giant, and I didn’t have any of your stuff, so it won’t be a good fit,” Dean said gruffly. “But it’ll keep most of you warm until we get to a hotel. Cas, this stuff should fit you fine; we’re about the same size.” For some reason, these last words seemed to embarrass Dean, and he turned away after handing Cas the jeans and flannel shirt.

“Thank you, Dean,” said Cas gravely. He looked between the brothers, and seemed about to speak, but he said nothing and began to get dressed.

“You OK, Cas? Sam, what about you? That looked like a pretty nasty cut on your arm.”

“Oh, yeah…” Sam looked down at his forearm where a demon with a knife had gotten past his guard and given him a good slash before he killed it. But there was no sign of injury, there or anywhere else that he could feel. “It’s gone,” he said. He glanced up at Cas.

Dean was looking at Cas, too. “You healed him?”

Cas looked uncharacteristically sheepish. “I must have done so. I… did not know he was injured. I suppose it happened… spontaneously. I am sorry, Sam. But you are well now? And you, Dean? Do you require healing?”

“Nah, I’m good,” said Dean. He shuffled his feet self-consciously. “Well, you two lovebirds get dressed, and let’s get out of here. And hey, sit on a blanket. Don’t get mud on my upholstery.”

~* * *~

Dean drove them to a hotel and checked in for all of them, leaving them in the car. Without asking, he’d booked two rooms. “Yours is down there,” he said, nodding to his left. “This is me. Text me if you want to get dinner, after you guys are cleaned up.” He unlocked the door and went in, shutting it behind him without looking back.

Sam and Cas went to their room and showered together. Sam had not realized how cold he was until the bliss of hot water washed over him. Cas didn’t really seem to know what to do in the shower, so Sam washed him thoroughly, wanting to make sure all traces of holy oil were removed. Cas reacted sensuously, and Sam saw no reason to resist, so they loved each other again. At the end, Sam even managed to get himself clean, with caressing hindrance more than help from Cas trying to return the favor of washing him. 

Sam settled Cas into bed before texting Dean. It was time they had that talk. “Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

“I may. Normally I would return to Heaven to recharge after such an incident. But that is out of the question, obviously. And I feel an odd sense of drifting, and a need to lie still, that seems to be much like the human need for sleep. So I will see if I can.”

“Good,” said Sam, tucking the covers around him and kissing him sweetly. There was a knock on the door then, and Sam went to let Dean in.

“Hey,” said Dean uneasily as he walked past Sam. He held up a six-pack of beer bottles. “Got a fridge?”

“Yep. Thanks,” said Sam, and took the six-pack and stowed it in the fridge, while Dean sat down at the small table in the corner.

“Should I leave while you have your talk?” asked Cas.

“No,” said Sam and Dean together. Sam glanced at Dean and gave him a small smile. “That’s OK,” Sam said. “You just rest and let us know if you need anything.”

“All right,” said Cas, settling into bed. 

Dean’s heart contracted at the sight of Cas in his old sleep shirt. The faded gray fabric that had spent so much time against his skin was now against Cas’s. It was strangely intimate.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. Dean hastily looked away from Cas. “So,” Sam began. “Thanks for coming for me today.”

“More like you came for us, bro,” said Dean. “We’d have been screwed otherwise.”

“Yeah. Umm…” Sam’s cheeks burned. “Dean. I didn’t… before today, I didn’t touch the demon blood, and I never would have. I never wanted to again. I can’t stand that I did. I swear. I won’t—”

“Enough, Sam,” Dean interrupted. “I’m tired of playing this game with you. It’s your decision, and if it had been me, and your life was at stake? And Cas’s? You know I’d do the same.”

“I don’t know if you would,” Sam murmured. “You’d find another way. Or die trying, maybe.”

“Well, you dyin’ today wouldn’t have saved me or Cas. So let’s let that one go, OK? We’ll…. figure out what we have to do when the time comes.” He looked away, and Sam knew he was remembering Bobby’s panic room. Cold terror crept over him as he remembered it, too. It didn’t matter. He would do what he had to do.

There was an awkward silence. “So,” Dean said abruptly. He met Sam’s eye, but his gaze shifted just slightly, a sort of flinch toward the bed. “About Cas. Are we good?”

Sam looked up at him. Dean met his gaze steadily. His face was inscrutable, but Sam knew his brother. He doubted Dean had ever guessed how well. _“I’m_ good,” said Sam. “Are you?”

“Yep. Great,” said Dean, perfectly poker-faced.

There was a silence while Sam studied Dean’s face, then sighed. “No, you’re not,” he said.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. “What do you want from me, Sam? Want us to have a nice chick flick moment? God, that’s a little too chick flick even for you.” He took on an airy falsetto voice. _Oh, sorry, I would never take your man… you still love me, girl?”_

“Shut up,” said Sam, laughing. Dean looked relieved. “No, Dean, I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry I left. And I’m… OK with what happened between you and Cas. He and I talked about it, and we’re OK. We love each other and we’re gonna stay together. If the world doesn’t end, that is. My question is, can you handle that? And no posturing, Dean, please. The truth.”

Dean opened his mouth to answer, then shut it abruptly. He looked down, and stole a glance across at Cas. The angel’s eyes were closed, but Dean could feel that he listened with interest. He felt that he’d finally learned that there was no way out of something like this except the truth.

“Sam, how can I really know?” he said quietly, finally. “It’s not like I’m the relationship expert. Neither of us is exactly, but you more than me. I can tell you what I don’t want, though, and it’s just that. A relationship. You and Cas are relationship guys. Not only am I not, I’m also not gay. So that works out, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what I thought. I just… is it gonna hurt? Seeing us together? You know we won’t rub it in your face, but—”

“It might,” said Dean honestly. “If it bugs me enough, I might just have to leave and see if I can get a little tail, that’s all. Never really been a problem for me.”

“OK,” said Sam, relieved. “Well… Cas and I talked about… something else. About how it doesn’t really have to be… 100 percent just him and me.”

“I heard,” said Dean casually, leaning back in his chair.

“You… you did?”

“Yep. Heard a few minutes of your conversation when I came to bring you the clothes. It seemed like it could save us some time, so I went ahead and listened.”

“And… what did you think?”

“I think you’re a better man than me, Sammy.”

Sam laughed bitterly. “You can’t mean that.”

“No, I do. I mean… I would do anything for you, bro. But… sharing the person I loved more than anything? Like, if there was a woman I loved like you love him? I couldn’t do that. And I won’t ask you to do it with Cas.”

“It just… doesn’t feel so bad for some reason, Dean. I freaked out when I saw him kissing you because I thought he was going to choose you _instead_ of me. When I think about how he loves us both… it just makes sense to me.”

Dean cleared his throat gruffly. “Yeah. Heard what you said about that. And… thanks, Sam. So… I don’t know what will happen. But if he and I ever do anything like that again, it won’t be a threat to you. I’d never take him from you, even if I could.”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“And I’m not givin’ up women,” Dean said sharply. “Like, not _ever.”_

Sam laughed. “Never dreamed you would, bro.”

They spoke of other things then—what they’d each learned about the apocalypse while they were apart, what Bobby was up to, and finally, if and how they were going to explain their… _changed_ relationship with Cas to Bobby. They joked about it for a while until they both felt better. They ordered pizza, and each cracked open a beer, settling in to their old routine with only a little frayed feeling around the edges.

“So, I’m not too pleased about the demons having holy oil,” said Dean. “I thought it was really hard to find.”

“Lucifer gave it to them,” said Cas unexpectedly, sitting up in bed behind them.

The brothers glanced over at him. It was odd, how he was so much the center of their lives now, but in falling back into their old relationship, they had almost forgotten he was there.

“Lucifer knows I am working with you, and he may have guessed that I am… no longer strictly obedient,” Cas continued. “As such, I am probably the greatest danger to him now, apart from Michael. Especially considering the idea I have just had.”

“What’s that, Cas?” asked Dean, sipping his beer.

“Sam. Dean.” Cas looked at them each seriously. “I may know a way we can stop the apocalypse and put an end to Lucifer. For good.”

~* * *~


	4. From the Morning

Sam and Dean both froze, staring. Sam uncrossed his legs, which had been propped on a chair across from him, and set them on the floor, leaning forward.

“Well, shit, Cas, care to share?” Dean said finally. “I can’t speak for Sam, but the suspense is killin’ me!”

“There are no guarantees,” Cas continued. “To my knowledge, it has only ever been done once before. Others who have attempted it have failed, and died. It is somewhat complicated, and dangerous, and very… intimate. But if you are both willing, there may be a way.”

“Well, I can see this plan comes highly recommended,” said Dean. “Again, care to share?”

“There are a few reasons I did not think of it before. For one, the possibility is only a legend. For another, it will only be possible if I can cleanse Sam of the demon blood. Entirely.”

“Is that possible?” Sam gasped.

“Why didn’t you tell us before that you could do that?” asked Dean at the same moment.

Cas sighed. “It only occurred to me when I took the demon blood from Sam’s mouth so he would kiss me.” He stood up and came walked around the bed, sitting down again on the corner nearest Sam. He leaned forward and took Sam’s hand. “Sam,” he said solemnly. “Understand that if we take this step, it will be extremely dangerous for you. For Dean as well, if we get that far, but far more for you. It will be painful, and there is every chance you could die. I will never let you, if I can prevent it. I would die myself first. But I may not be given that choice.”

“Well, aren’t you a packet of sunshine?” Dean quipped irritably. “Stop with all the damn doom-and-gloom and tell us what the hell we have to do!” He was almost shouting.

Sam sat forward. His eyes were gleaming fanatically. He gripped Cas’s hand fiercely. “Cas,” he said. “If you can… make me clean. Take the demon blood away forever. I’d give anything for that.”

“It can be done,” said Cas. “But it will make what you went through with the normal detoxing look like a mild head cold.”

“What do you have to do?” asked Dean.

“I must pull the demon essence out of you, down to your very cells,” said Cas gravely, gazing at Sam. His eyes were pained. “It could take hours, and… would be much like surgery without anesthesia. You would be aware the whole time. Delirious, as you were when detoxing before, but the pain would be intense, physically. We would… have to restrain you. It is my hope that I could reach you, speak with you as I perform the cleansing, and perhaps Dean could as well. That is our only hope for easing your pain.”

“I want to do it,” said Sam instantly.

“He said you could die,” said Dean sharply. He turned to Cas. “What are the chances of that?”

“I cannot say,” said Cas. “I will pull back if I believe it is too much, but if I go deeply enough, down to the level of Sam’s cells, and do not complete the process, he may die anyway. It is a delicate thing, and nothing I have ever done before. It is likely that Sam will be changed forever.”

“What kind of changes?” asked Sam.

“Again, impossible to say. But there may be abilities you have, of which you are not even aware, that come from the demon blood given to you as an infant. Your sensitivity to certain thoughts and foreshadowing, for example. Possibly even what you would call your intuition. There is no way to know for certain how much of these abilities is acquired from experience, or your own nature, and what is afforded to you by demon blood.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Sam. He was breathing quickly. “I want it out. I want to be clean.”

Dean was glancing between the two of him as if he were watching a tennis match. “Now, hold on, Sam—” 

“No, Dean,” Sam interrupted quickly. “It’s like you said about my drinking the blood this last time. It’s my choice. What I do could destroy me either way. But this way, like you said once, at least I’d die human.”

Pain clouded Dean’s face. “Sam, I never meant—” 

“I know. It doesn’t matter. We’re doing this. I can do it. I can survive it, Dean. Cas. I know I can.”

Cas was gazing at him steadily. He leaned closer and touched Sam’s cheek. Sam held his hand against his face, locking gazes with the angel. Dean looked away.

“Very well,” said Cas. “We will attempt it. I will do everything in my power to save you.”

There was silence for a minute or two. Then Sam said, “So once I’m free of the demon blood, we could do something to stop the apocalypse?” He sounded almost frightened. The glance that he and Dean exchanged showed that Dean was anxious, too. “How?” he asked finally.

Cas looked up. His eyes gleamed with an odd, almost ferocious zeal. “It may just be possible. It would never have occurred to me, but—”

“DAMN IT, Cas, just _spit it out!”_ Dean growled.

“I may be able to take both of you as a vessel, and if it works, it would make me powerful enough to defeat Michael and Lucifer.”

There was a stunned silence. Both Winchesters stared blankly at Cas. Cas zealously continued. “It requires some explanation. You see, there is a legend that an angel, an ordinary seraph like myself, once overcame a powerful enemy in this way. He was able to take two humans—they were twin sisters, I believe—as vessels at the same time. They both became him. And in so doing, Nisroc became extremely powerful—more powerful than an archangel.”

“How did that make him more powerful?” asked Sam. “Didn’t that mean his power was just split in half?”

“No, the opposite. It was more than doubled. Angelic essence does not behave the way the matter or energy of this plane behaves. Splitting it doubles its power rather than halving it, and the human soul magnifies that power further. An archangel cannot perform this process, because the influx of essence that powerful would instantly vaporize a human vessel.”

“Will it vaporize us?” asked Dean gruffly.

“No. Nisroc’s vessels survived. I… I have heard it said that he loved them, and was very close to them. It is considered blasphemy to speak of that.”

“Which almost certainly means it’s true,” said Sam.

“Yes. And they were sisters, so they loved and were close to each other as well. I believe the bond that existed between the three of them is why they succeeded. And that is why I thought of it. I dared to think that the three of us could do this. It is possible. However…”

“There’s always a ‘however’,” Dean muttered.

“What’s the catch, Cas?” Sam prodded gently, when Cas did not immediately continue.

“If I fail,” said Cas slowly, “the process could destroy all three of us. I have seen this happen. The angel tried to take two people, a father and son, as vessels. They were not intimately connected, but Kemiel believed she could duplicate what Nisroc had done. When she tried to perform the ritual, her essence was magnified, but she could not hold it together in the two vessels. Apparently the vessels, though they had said yes to Kemiel, fought the closeness to each other and the submergence of their identities. Her essence was scattered forever, and the humans… died.”

Cas turned to face the two of them. “Sam. Dean. It is… beyond arrogant of me, to believe I can do this. Nisroc was an old and powerful angel. I am comparatively young and inexperienced. But… I love you both deeply. And I have seen that you love each other without limits as well. Enough to die for one another. I believe that it was this kind of love, and not his age and experience, that allowed Nisroc to succeed.”

There was silence again. Sam glanced at Dean, who had flushed and lowered his head, and was avoiding his eye and Cas’s. He spoke before Sam could. 

“So even if we fail, Michael and Lucifer don’t get their apocalypse,” said Dean.

“How do you figure?” asked Sam.

“We’ll be dead. Beyond being brought back by those dicks, and they can’t do it without us. Right, Cas?”

Cas looked unhappy. “Yes.”

“But Cas will be dead, too,” said Sam softly. “We’re mortal, but he can expect to live forever if we don’t kill him.”

Dean looked down again, but said nothing. He seemed extremely conflicted. No one spoke for a long moment. Finally, Sam spoke.

“Cas,” he said, and the look he gave the angel was so tender that it wrenched Dean’s heart. “You know us. We would want to do this. But we can’t ask you to sacrifice—” 

“You, but not I?” interrupted Cas.

“Like I said, if not for us, you’d live forever.”

“Yes. And you are presuming I would wish for that. I do not. I learned that recently, Sam, when I came to love you, and you left me.”

Sam looked up, stricken. Cas continued.

“Humans are fond of saying they would die for love, or die because of its loss. I know that you feel this, and perhaps it is even true sometimes. But I do not have that option. If I lose you—either of you—I must live with that pain forever. I cannot die and leave it behind, even after the full length of a human lifetime, as you would do, even if you grieved as long as it is possible to grieve. And now that I have these emotions, they are angelic in nature. They will not fade over time, as human emotions do. Sam, if you die when I cleanse you of the demon blood, I will miss you, long for you, and grieve for you _forever._ For _millennia,_ Sam. You truly cannot conceive it.”

Neither of the brothers spoke. Sam looked devastated, and opened his mouth once or twice to speak, but no words came.

“I do not believe that God wants the apocalypse,” said Cas, out of nowhere, after a long moment. “I… it may be arrogant of me. But I believe this is His plan for stopping it. I believe that is why the dreams came to Sam, and then to Dean. Why I came to love the both of you, and you to love me. So that we could do this. At this point, perhaps even God could not stop Michael and Lucifer. But perhaps we can.”

“We’ll do it, Cas. We’ll try,” said Dean. He did even not have to look at Sam to know that he spoke for him, too.

~* * *~

They spoke a bit more, Sam and Dean probing Cas for details, but it soon became apparent to Sam that Cas was not really well yet. He kept pausing and staring off into space while he spoke, and once when Dean was arguing about something, Sam actually saw Cas’s head slump forward and come back up with a jerk, like he was nodding off.

“OK,” Sam interrupted. “Clearly, it’s bedtime for little angels. You’re still feeling the holy oil effects, aren’t you?”

“I feel… strangely disconnected and fatigued,” Cas replied.

“Yep, sounds like you need some shut-eye, all right,” said Dean, standing up. “I could stand some, myself. We’ll talk more about this in the morning.”

“Dean…” said Cas. He glanced at Sam. “Could he… would you stay, Dean? The bed is quite large. I… would like to have you both close. I will begin thinking about how to take you as vessels, and having you close, practicing that intimacy, can only help our chances.”

Both Winchesters looked startled. They looked at each other. It was true; it was a king-sized bed. The three of them could fit, though without any room to spare.

To Sam’s surprise, Dean shrugged and kicked off his shoes. “Fine with me, as long as you’re in the middle,” he said. “Been years since I had to share a bed with this one,” he said, nodding at Sam, “but as I recall, he’s all knees and elbows.” He shucked off his jeans and crawled into bed next to Cas. “OK with you, Sammy?”

Sam stood frozen for a minute, looking at them. Cas was watching his response, and he and Dean did not move to touch each other. Then Sam shrugged. “OK by me,” he said. He got undressed himself, a bit self-consciously. Cas snuggled against Dean, but did not move to hold him, and Dean merely sprawled out in his usual position, looking ready to fall asleep, but Sam could see the tension in his shoulders. When he crawled in next to Cas, Cas immediately pulled him into his arms. Oddly, Dean seemed to relax when Cas held Sam. For Sam, it was no different from having Dean in the bed across the little aisle from him, the way it had been most of their lives, except that Cas was with them. It felt secure and _right._ He quickly drifted into exhausted sleep.

~* * *~

When Dean woke the next morning, he felt blissfully warm, and far more relaxed than he ever got to be without passing out drunk. It was extremely pleasant. Still sleepy, he became aware of a soft, moaning sigh near him. He was not awake enough to worry about its source, or what he should be feeling. Instead, the sound travelled through him, warming his blood with soft arousal and desire. He opened his eyes.

Cas was kissing Sam, who sleepily stretched out and caressed the angel, moaning softly. Dean closed his eyes. Maybe he could sleep through whatever AM delight those two had planned, without making things awkward. He lay still, trying not to attract any attention to himself, and though there were gentle, stirring movements in the bed next to him, there were no more sounds. 

He began to drift off again, and wondered if he was dreaming, as he had so often dreamed of Cas, when he felt soft caresses on his shoulders and back. He came fully awake to Cas kissing him, deeply, slowly, incredibly erotically. It was a slow burn, a softly surging flood that could drown him before he ever heard it coming… he had nothing in him but surrender.

When he opened his eyes as Cas’s lips parted from his, he saw Sam resting on Cas’s far shoulder, smiling transcendentally, eyes sensuously half-closed. Somehow, this really wasn’t a problem for him. In the midst of his rising desire, Dean was relieved.

It was… stunning, and beautiful, how easily and perfectly it all came together. Dean had cause to think back on what Cas had said about the three of them “practicing intimacy.” They didn’t seem to need much practice. He and Sam had been a team all their lives. Now they loved Cas as a team. Somehow it wasn’t weird, glancing at each other over Cas’s body, knowing from those glances what each wanted the other to do next. Dean held Cas tightly, kissing him deeply and aggressively, swallowing his moans of ecstasy, while Sam travelled down the angel’s body and took him in his mouth, moving slowly and inexorably, pushing Cas over the edge into rapture. Then Sam tenderly turned Cas on his side and pushed into him, and at a glance, Dean could see how to position himself and guide Cas into taking him. The three of them moved together, Cas squeezed tightly between them, until all were lost in a pleasure so pure and sweet, it felt like they had been heading here, missing and needing this, all their lives.

There was a very un-Winchester-like cheer in the air all that day, as they packed up and discussed plans. After the afterglow had faded, Dean was frankly mystified at how this could be possible, how Sam could be all right with it. Hell, he still didn’t know how _he_ could be all right with it. But everyone was all right. For the first time in many years, Dean began to consider how it might be possible for the path of his life to actually lead to happiness.

~* * *~

They decided Bobby’s panic room was the best place to try to cleanse Sam of the demon blood, despite Sam’s bad associations with the place. They would need Bobby’s help with the next phase, and it was time they explained things to him, anyway. Sam and Dean were both tense on the drive to South Dakota. They had no idea how Bobby would react to the news of them _both_ being Cas’s lovers, when he would never expect it of either of them. Dean maintained that the worst danger was likely to be that Bobby would think they were under a spell. They both knew he wouldn’t like any part of their plan to stop Lucifer, but also knew that they could make him see it was their best—and only—option.

Like Dean, Bobby thought they were punking him at first. It took hours of explanation to get the truth, and their entire plan, through to him. He even tested them with silver and holy water, but he seemed unable to think Cas was anyone but who he was, and finally accepted his word on the matter. He was a bit uncomfortable, but otherwise passed it off. 

“If it’ll stop the damned apocalypse, I’ll have sex with him, too,” he joked. While Sam and Dean were choking, Cas thanked Bobby solemnly for the kind offer.

They made their plan. Cas explained that it was likely Sam would be unconscious for hours, at least, after being cleansed of the demon blood, if he survived the process. They would give him a couple of days to recover and see how the cleansing had affected him. Then Cas would attempt to take them both as vessels. Meanwhile, Bobby and Dean would track the signs of demonic activity and the breaking of the seals to predict where Lucifer would be, so that Cas could confront and hopefully defeat him.

Sam would brook no delay in cleansing him of the demon blood. He insisted that they start right away. Dean wasn’t sure if Sam could see it in his frenzied zeal, but Cas was clearly nervous. While Bobby was getting Sam settled into his restraints in the panic room and removing the angel-proofing, Dean drew Cas aside.

“Listen, man,” he said. “Don’t let Sam push you. If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this now. You just recovered from the holy oil.”

“I am fully recovered,” said Cas. “I am just… afraid. I do not wish to hurt Sam.”

“He knows that. So do I.”

“But I must hurt him, to complete this process,” Cas said. He acted the same as ever, speaking in monotone, but Dean knew him well enough to spot the signs of distress. He was just a little too still, his gaze too fixed.

“We know that, too. He’ll forgive you for the pain. Hell, so will I, if it means Sam is free of this forever. We’ll thank you for it.”

“It is not thanks I wish for. And it is not only hurting him that I fear. I fear… I will not be able to hurt him enough to succeed.”

Dean sighed, meeting the angel’s gaze. “I get that.” He really, really did.

“Dean…” Cas moved forward and embraced him. Dean stiffened reflexively. He still wasn’t used to this. Cas often showed him affection in front of Sam, and Sam honestly seemed fine with it. But here, where Sam couldn’t see them, while he was being strapped down for a horrific procedure… it didn’t seem right. He made himself think of Cas as a girl for a moment—someone who needed protection and reassurance. He’d been cast in that protective role often enough. 

Cas sighed when Dean embraced him, leaning into him. “I need you to be… _close_ to me when I do this, and close to Sam. The more intimately connected we are, the easier this process will be, I believe.”

“Wait a second,” said Dean, wide-eyed. “How intimate we talkin’ here?” 

Cas laughed. He did not laugh often; in fact it was something Dean had observed him doing only very recently. “I do not mean physical intimacy,” he said, releasing Dean from his embrace. “I mean emotionally. Spiritually. You must open yourself to the divine, and to me. Sam must, also, but this seems to come quite naturally to him.”

“Sam’s always been a believer,” said Dean uncomfortably. He sighed again, and touched Cas’s cheek, meeting his eye fully. He forced his feelings of discomfort aside. “I’m with you, Cas. All the way.”

Cas hurried into the room then, and sat on the chair next to Sam’s cot. Bobby beat a hasty retreat as Cas cupped Sam’s cheek and leaned close to him.

“Are you ready, Sam?”

“So ready,” said Sam. His eyes were gleaming feverishly. But something in Cas’s eyes caught his. “Are you, though?”

“Yes.” Cas glanced up as Dean came in, nodding at the chair across from him. Dean sat down. “I am sorry you must be restrained, Sam. I’m afraid you will harm yourself in your hallucinations, and you will almost certainly try to escape. I am…” Cas stopped, pained. 

“Hey,” Dean stepped in then, reaching across to grip Cas’s arm. He glanced down at Sam meaningfully. Sam seemed to take his meaning. “Sam knows you don’t want to hurt him. He knows how bad this is going to be. You can do it, Cas. We know you can.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. He was gazing into Cas’s eyes with pure adoration. “I’m not afraid, Cas. Not of that.”

Cas took Sam’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. Sam gave a soft laugh of gratitude when Dean popped the restraint on his side of the cot, so Sam could embrace Cas in return. He kissed him for a long moment.

Cas sat back and nodded at Dean. The kiss seemed to fortify him. Dean strapped Sam back in. “Let’s do this,” he said.

Cas put his hands on Sam. Sam closed his eyes. For several minutes, Dean wondered if anything was happening. They were both motionless. Then Sam’s face twitched. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow. His eyes popped open. “No…” he moaned. “No, Cas, I need you…”

Cas did not seem to hear him. He had begun to look… Dean couldn’t form words to describe it, even in his mind. Somehow, he just didn’t look human anymore. There was no glow, no static in the air, such as Dean sometimes felt right before Cas zapped him somewhere. But there was… a light that he could _feel,_ if not see. 

He strove to open himself to that feeling as he gripped Sam’s arm. “He’s here, Sammy. Right here with you. We’re both here.”

Sam was clearly trying not to scream. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his teeth clenched fiercely over the pained sounds that escaped him. Dean forced himself not to look away, to be right there with Sam in his pain. He began to feel something strange then, like Cas was speaking to him, to both of them, only he could not quite hear the words.

Dean gasped and almost jerked away, gripping Sam’s arm at the last second to maintain the connection, as something rose out of Sam, all along the length of his body, forming a cloud over them. It was a dark red mist, and Dean caught a whiff of sulfur just as Sam writhed, arcing off the cot, and screamed.

He gripped his arm more tightly, and, acting on instinct, put his other hand over Cas’s where it rested on Sam’s chest. “It’s OK, Sam. It’s OK,” he kept repeating, and it seemed to work: Sam calmed a bit. Dean felt an electric current where his hand covered Cas’s. Then suddenly Cas turned, and with one hand on Sam’s face, he lifted the other hand and gestured, and the room was suddenly filled with blue-white light. The red mist sparked and hissed, then sizzled into nothing. The light permeated Sam as he screamed again. It shot out through his eyes, ears and mouth, forming a haze all around him, lifting him as far off the cot as the restraints would allow. Then suddenly the light was gone, and Dean felt something snap back into his chest, knocking him over in his chair as Sam’s body went slack, unconscious on the cot.

Dean scrambled to his feet. “Sam? SAM!” He gripped his brother’s shoulders and shook him. Sam did not wake, but groaned softly. Dean pressed his ear to Sam’s chest. His heartbeat was steady, his breathing a bit ragged, but strong.

Cas was silent, and it worried Dean. He was still slumped over Sam, his eyes half-lidded, unmoving. “Cas?” Dean said, unwontedly timid. Though he’d never admit it, at times, such as now, the angel intimidated the hell out of him. Not only did he not look human in this moment, he didn’t _feel_ human. There was a charge in the air around him, like the light that Dean could feel while Cas performed the cleansing, but more solid, like lightning just on the point of striking. As much as Dean tried to reason with himself, he was afraid.

Cautiously, he left Sam’s side and walked around the cot to where Cas sat. He reached out to touch him. For some reason, he could only move very slowly, but finally he gripped the angel’s shoulder gently.

“Cas?” he said, then cleared his throat, hating the wimpiness he perceived in his voice. “Cas, you OK? You… in there?”

Cas looked up. Dean started. The angel’s eyes, always a celestially intense blue, were now actually luminescent. He blinked, and the impression faded slightly, but Dean could not look away from his gaze.

Cas clasped Dean’s hand where it rested on his shoulder and gave him a small, vulnerable smile. “I am well, Dean. Sam is well. We have succeeded.”

Dean seized Cas roughly and kissed him. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he could hardly stop himself. He kissed him intensely, in a way he never had when they were not in bed together, pushing his tongue urgently into his mouth. Cas responded with equal fire, pulling Dean close with one arm, but leaving the other hand pressed to Sam’s chest. Dean could feel that the three of them were still intrinsically, electrically connected.

He forced himself to pull away when Sam moaned suddenly. He and Cas both looked down at him. He stirred and opened his eyes.

Dean flushed. Had Sam seen him kiss Cas like that, while he lay hurt and unconscious? His heart constricted with guilt. But then Sam smiled.

“You did it,” he panted, and writhed, trying to free himself of the restraints. His gaze was locked on Cas’s, but Dean couldn’t quite make sense of his expression. It wasn’t what he would’ve expected. And… of course Dean wasn’t looking, but he could swear he saw a distinct bulge in Sam’s pants, and he really didn’t want to think about _that._

Quickly, Dean undid the restraints. “How do you feel, bro?’ he asked, but received no answer, because upon being released, Sam had grabbed Cas, much the way Dean just had, and was now kissing him with fierce passion. Cas fell forward onto the cot with Sam and kissed him back, moaning helplessly. 

Dean was suddenly struck by how weird his life was. He wasn’t sure what he should do—perhaps step out and give the pair their privacy? But he was worried about Sam—had it really worked? Cas had thought Sam would be unconscious a lot longer than this…

When Sam broke free long enough to gasp, “Cas… I need you,” Dean decided it was time to make a break for it, and started edging for the door. 

Without looking away from Sam, Cas shot out his arm and grabbed Dean’s wrist as he passed. “Sam,” he murmured caressingly, “I will give you what you need. Just wait a moment…” He glanced up at Dean, who shrugged uncomfortably and sat back down in his chair.

But Sam moaned impatiently and dragged Cas down again, kissing him hard, seizing his lower lip in his teeth. “I’m sorry,” he panted, caressing Cas’s shoulders and neck with helpless sensuality. “I… Cas… I don’t know what this is, I can’t stop… God, I… I just need it so much…”

“I know,” murmured Cas. “We must… Dean. I need you here, too. I… I must have both of you. And we will do it now. I will take you as my vessels.”

Dean felt a thrill of terror at these words, but he gasped when the fear transformed itself inside him, coalescing in the most intense rush of pure lust he had ever felt. He actually stumbled onto his feet out of the chair, involuntarily, and nearly fell on Cas, tearing blindly at his clothes, encountering Sam’s hands doing the same thing. They tore Cas’s clothes off, and while Cas was impatiently undressing Sam, Dean stripped as quickly as possible, trembling all over with a lethal combination of fear and blind passion. He was only able to see clearly for a moment, when he kicked the leg of the cot while scrambling out of his jeans, sending a sharp pain through his foot.

“Wait. Wait,” he panted, stumbling upright. “What’s happening here, Cas? We… we aren’t ready… are we?” He had never felt more _ready_ in his life.

Cas threw the blanket from the cot onto the floor, and pulled Sam, who was still frantically fondling him, out of the cot onto his feet. There was no way the three of them would fit on the cot. “I must take you, Dean,” he said, releasing Sam, who turned blindly in the direction that he moved, like a baby’s rooting instinct. Cas took Dean’s arm and pulled him to his knees on the floor. Sam knelt beside them, groping at Cas sensuously. “I have already been inside Sam… I am still in him now… but I must come inside you. And Sam will come into me, and we will be joined. The time is now, Dean. Will you give yourself to me as vessel, giving over yourself to me utterly?”

The _yes_ surged through Dean’s blood, searing his nerve endings with raging desire, so hot and ecstatic that it was almost an orgasm, and far beyond one. “YES!” he shouted, falling forward on his knees, going willingly as Cas pressed him down, chest to floor, and he heard Sam sobbing “Yes, Cas, come into me, yes!” to the question he hadn’t heard Cas ask.

He felt the three of them joined together, Cas mounting him urgently, pressing into him and coming instantly, his ecstasy bathing Dean as his seed spurted into him, his kisses and caresses like fire all over his skin. 

As his own ecstasy roared implacably inside him, Dean saw what he had never been able to remember: Cas, in his true form, all wings and blinding light, laying his hands upon him in the depths of ignominy, brutality and despair, and raising him, lifting him up, bearing him home.

~* * *~

Sam had always known he would come here.

When he was a very small child—too young to remember it later—he had seen angels. They had come to him, laughing, while he played or prayed, and he had tried to touch them. They had seemed to want to touch him, to talk to him and play with him, at first. But then the dark cloud had risen up in him and driven them away. He still remembered their laughter, their singing… and now the dark cloud was gone, burned away, and Sam had thought he would burn up with it, but he didn’t.

He didn’t. He woke up. He was clean, divine, beautiful, and nothing evil, _nothing,_ would ever touch him again. He rose up in Cas’s arms, like _he_ was the one who would save _him,_ beautiful angel, his perfect love… he had been saved, and would save, and he would be an angel, too, in Cas, with Cas in him.

~* * *~

Bobby sat up, gripping his shotgun, when he heard steps on the stairs. He stood up nervously as Sam came through the door, looking blank and a little shell-shocked. He’d thought the ritual would take much longer than this. He forgot caution in his joy at seeing Sam alive and mobile, and strode across the room to him, gripping his shoulders.

“Sam? You OK, boy? Did it work? You demon-blood free?”

Sam stared at him blankly, then looked down at his hands on his shoulders. “I am not Sam Winchester,” he said flatly.

Bobby gasped. _“Cas?”_

“Yes,” said Dean’s voice—or _not_ Dean’s voice, exactly—behind Sam. He came through the doorway, his face as blank as Bobby had ever seen it, but it was a different blankness from Dean’s carefully calculated poker face that Bobby had seen—and seen through—a thousand times. He barely looked like himself. 

“Sam is well,” Dean-Cas continued. 

“The cleansing went better than I expected, so we decided to proceed with the merge,” said Sam-Cas, seamlessly continuing the same sentence.

“My old vessel is unconscious, and will need your care, Bobby. Please watch over him,” said Dean-Cas.

They were both behaving exactly like the Cas Bobby was used to, and they both stood stiffly, taking random parts of the conversation and acting like they didn’t notice which of them spoke. Seeing this behavior wearing Sam and Dean’s faces was extremely disconcerting.

“It may be difficult, even impossible, to release Sam and Dean if I do not have a familiar vessel to return to,” continued Sam-Cas. “That may prove to be the most dangerous part of this.”

“All right! I’ll play nursemaid to your vessel! But you gotta stop with the creepy horror-movie-twins act. You’re really freakin’ me out.”

Both heads turned toward him. Bobby suppressed a shudder. “What do you mean?” asked Dean-Cas.

“Just… pick one vessel to have talk, and let the other one be quiet. Otherwise it’s like the Borg or something.”

Dean-Cas tilted his head curiously. “Dean thinks this is funny. I do not understand the references.”

“Dean can hear us? He’s… awake?”

“Yes. Much more so than I am used to having a vessel be. Sam, too. They are both aware, and can help me. This is… all so much more than I hoped. We will surely defeat Lucifer—and Michael too, if necessary.”

Bobby stared between the bodies of his two as-good-as-sons. He took a deep breath. “Well. Tell me what you need.”

~* * *~

Lucifer was satisfied with his work this time around. His temporary vessel was working out all right, though a bit worn around the edges. He was breaking seals and receiving sacrifices at a lovely, thriving rate. And Sam Winchester? He would cave in a minute once Lucifer started _really_ putting the pressure on. All he needed to do to really make matters a cinch would be to get his hands on that brother of his. He could do a lot of damage to Sam’s psyche without doing too much damage to Michael’s vessel—at least, not so much that he couldn’t still _use_ it. Maybe he’d send a party to fetch the elder Winchester… but not yet. That would be almost _too_ easy.

He gazed absently at the dead virgin on the hearth of the house he’d appropriated. Dean Winchester hadn’t rushed to save _this_ one. That had been a nice touch, using a fake version of a real seal to bring the lad running. Lucifer frowned. That particular encounter hadn’t exactly gone the way he’d planned… that other, lesser brother of his… what was his name? Castiel. He was beginning to make a nuisance of himself, but the Winchesters seemed… _fond_ enough of their little seraph that perhaps he could become a big player, if he survived what Lucifer sent after him next.

There was a sound then—something eerily familiar, from the depths of time; Lucifer couldn’t quite pin it down… a sort of chiming, a sound of light and air, nothing really. Then Lucifer felt something he hadn’t felt in millennia, and had never expected to feel again. He had structured his profane existence so as never to feel it, and it took him some moments to recognize it: fear.

Suddenly the room was filled with celestial light, ringing with divine vibrations that would shatter the eardrums of any ordinary human. Lucifer rolled his eyes. Michael had always been one for overdoing things.

But it wasn’t Michael. In fact, the only beings in the room were the very ordinary, denim clad, ho-hum Winchesters. He smiled. Sam and Dean both! Lucifer peered over their overly-tall shoulders to see what all the fuss was about, but there was no one else there.

“Well,” he said, smiling. “This is a surprise.”

He had no idea how true that would prove.

~* * *~

Dean-Cas looked at Sam-Cas. The Winchesters were very loud inside the angel. Their triumph was deafening. They had leveled the entire house and blasted the surrounding acreage, but Lucifer was back in his cage. All too easy. Castiel was worried that Michael would be the real challenge. He could feel that he was on his way.

 _Is that all there is to it?_ said Dean.

 _I think that’s it,_ said Sam. 

_Michael may not prove so easy,_ said Castiel. _Be quiet now so that I may concentrate. He’s here._

But Michael’s needs, once expressed, were simple. When it became clear that he would not get his apocalypse, he was obviously quite concerned about the power Castiel now wielded. Castiel wrangled an agreement with him, sealed by the blood of both vessels and Michael’s own archangelic hand, an unbreakable vow. Michael agreed to end his efforts to bring about the apocalypse and battle with Lucifer, until such time as the signs rose again, and he would not raise a hand against the Winchesters, nor influence others to do so, for the rest of their lives. In exchange, Castiel would not use the unprecedented power of his dual vessels to work against Michael in Heaven. He agreed to leave the Winchester vessels and never take them again.

Simple. Over.

The hardest part, it turned out, was returning to Jimmy Novak. His old vessel, who had never woken while he was gone, welcomed him, but it was very difficult, maybe the most difficult thing Castiel had ever done, to sunder himself from Sam and Dean.

In the end, he found that perhaps he had not done a very thorough job. Sam and Dean were fine—more than fine—and very glad to have control of their bodies back. But Cas was _different._ For one thing, he was quite sure his divine power was permanently magnified by his contact with not one, but the _two_ brightest, purest, most beautiful souls he had ever imagined. Sam and Dean Winchester were simply magnificent. He felt their humanity humming in his divine substance. He found that he now understood jokes about sex and references to pop culture. He could _laugh,_ and did, frequently. He knew how to use a laptop computer and how to tune up a car—at least any car made before 1980 or so. And he understood that distinction.

There was a fourth presence Cas wondered about. Not that it hadn’t been crowded enough inside him these last few days, but when he’d taken Sam and Dean, and again when he’d given them up, and perhaps for just a spark of a moment when he’d forced Lucifer back into his cage, he’d felt something, like a smile from someone just out of sight, a sense of happy satisfaction, of pride in him for a job well done. He dared not articulate to himself who this might be. Not yet.

So he could still feel the Winchesters, and they could feel him. And he thought it would likely turn out that, once the buzz had worn off, they too would find themselves changed—they would be able to feel each other, sense each other’s thoughts, even more than they always had.

He even imbibed beer at the party Bobby threw upon learning of their success. He still didn’t _quite_ get its appeal, but he could feel it there, could almost touch it. And as he fell into bed that night with his two beloved, cherished humans, pressing his head against Sam’s chest to listen to his strong, beautiful heart, feeling Dean settle happily against his back, he could feel endless other possibilities spooling out… human happiness coming into reach, for all of them.

~The End~


End file.
